The art of not fucking.

I love to sleep
                The sleep of love
                               With you.

Love makes us

Our smaller hands
        Smaller bodies

Night rushes
Into the arms of my lover
                 The back of her mind
                  The length of her spine

Rhythm of slight movements
Drunk on red wine

Love blooms
In sucking scars
Of each others bodies

Softening the harshness
Under the covers

Alternate longings
Half belongings

The art of fucking
The art of
Sensual longing.



Have you ever met someone who makes you feel like you have just woken up to life?
That person could be bruised in the oddest of ways but for you their bruises hold no value. For you, all that matters is the intensity of your chance encounter of discovering them. You carefully, take each step. You want to explore them like a traveller explores a new city..but its different..its different because even though you are a traveller navigating your way through strange lands trying to find a balance between loneliness and a sense of somehow feel like this person has been your home all along.
No wonder they say
That souls don’t just meet.
Souls remember. Souls connect.
And sooner or later
The red threads between the two points start pulling them closer.

Time is a precious gift.
Moments are made in an instant.

I have found a home. I have found my moment.
One with a roof made of love.
One that’s gentle and pleasant in its roots.


Past midnight
as we lay on our respective beds
Separated by space and time

United by fate and rhyme

Our voices
Were still getting use to the sounds
Of your laughter
Stuck in wind chimes

Suddenly for you
The pillow felt like a lap

I was put on the map.

We made love-smoothies
That tasted like a lunar eclipse

We raced our way to heaven
On your subtle silence, I tripped.

Now it feels..
And that’s a sign

That our feelings


Dreamscapes and me.

I am a sigh breaking into you. I escape from you in the form of distant thoughts. But you tell me a different story. You confess your longing for my words.

I kiss you while you’re wrapped up in the blanket made of oceanic waves. Reflecting moonlight. Turning purple.

Let me know the depths of this geometrical pattern that we form as our bodies dance in half sleepy cuddles. I will undo the way universe has planned our lives.

I will touch you until
My touch
Is the only feeling you can remember.

In every life.

These nights I spend away make me feel like a restless tree caught in a restless wind, moving quite restlessly.


We Bloom.

What she thinks
When she sinks
Into the skins
Of her lovers

What she discovers

When she looks
The other way

A tree with orange birds
An orange bird with blue and green colours

I see her in black and white

In purple
In yellow

In every rhyme


I am that lover

I discover

What no one has
No one will ever.


Separation Anxiety.

He is going away tonight
To dissolve in the city scapes
Of a brighter city
With brighter lights

No more will he illuminate
The dark spaces
Of my life

I will miss him
His smell
His car
His words
His eyes

He will ask me
About my life

I will tell him
He took half of it

With him.

We will break

Until the next time

We get to feel
Our auras mix

He is leaving

I am



Snapshot of a thought.

I distract myself from thoughts about you
I stare at the cigarette
That’s burning
Between my fingers
But it doesn’t compare
To the way
My heart burns for you.


A little something.

All the lovely people
Who click
And share
By reading
My words

I have just made a new
Tumblr account
With my artwork+poetry

Like if you like
Or else

We are all evolving
Sight by sight

Happy to be here

Living life.


Breathing out.

Every time I see you
The blood in my veins approve
The heart in me grooves
Colours come down
From the highest blues
Into lower shimmering
Bright pink hues
I touch you
Just to make sure
If I am real to you
And yes I am
And yes you smile
And yes what more can I ask for
Then this little while.


On returning home.

Do you have any Sunday afterthoughts you want to mirror?

He asks me stuff like this. Of course our relationship is of the mind. The best kinds.

I get excited by the empty spaces in music.

He tells me things like this. Of course I am fascinated by him.

Everyone’s so dispersed. I think this would lead to some interesting individuality growth in each one of us.

He discusses ideas that are freshly warm. Taken out of the oven. Placed in my palm.

Of course I am inspired by him.

He wears a t shirt that says
“Your judgement is irrelevant” and then asks me if the t shirt is too small!

Of course I laugh at him
He laughs with me

This is how we spent our Sunday.

In a car.
On a street.

Yellow street light spilled all around us.

And we
Washing our nostalgia
With that light.