beauty, creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love

Stop Me

The hair is veiled
With an abysmal darkness in your eyes,
But your smile is the light of those pink lips,
You spell an aura of resplendence,
Of silence breathing in chaos.
From the fair collarbone and sculpted neck,
The curves below rests and tempt every living soul with some youthfulness left in their hearts with customary pair of functioning eyes.
The bosoms shaped tempting, while the
picture of loneliness burns in brightsm
Do not move when I observe you
and consume some chaos.
I need to observe more
Till my eyes rust
in this rain of calmness.

Perfectly shaped bosoms,
curved over a bright brasserie
traced towards a series of irresistible
sun baked patches of skin.
Now move slowly,
Let me forget this image.
I need some sleep,
To dream you again.
Unravelling everything slowly
Till you forget to stop me.

beauty, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Our Symmetries

How often does your tongue teases you
for the words never spoken to me?

How often does your eyes tremble in dreams,
while a familiar shadow whispers my silent goodbyes.

How often does your fingertips ache to trace my eyes and lips
leaving an inch of air, for the sanity of this merciless world?

How often does you smile kisses the dawn
while my names echoes within you like a sweet poison?

How Often? Tell me, do our symmetries meet
and seperate, like the restless blood and the unstoppable heart?

beauty, creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Both – I

I want to hear your impatient moans
everytime I feel your skin with my tongue,
For I am blind to it’s contours and surfaces,
My hands only tends to the voices of flesh,
I silence the desires with my fingers
Till they become wet or tired,
Or pleasantly both.

I start by your neck, licking the flesh,
Tasting its warmth, the shirt unbuttons,
As my fingers slither inside,
Pressing your breasts, caressing them slowly
You let out a moan and bite me on neck.
I hold you so close, to begin with

The buttons break, the hands slide in,
I caress the breasts, feeling the nipples
They are bound to be erect, telling my fingers
To lick them slowly, to unhook and taste them.

beauty, creative-writing, Love, Poems, poetry

Tonight

The tips are swallowed into an unending touch of wetness, my hands learn the way to end your silence, it spreads your legs and feels the curve
While your breath changes to warm storms of desire,
I feel the cotton laced covering, the guardian of sensuous modesty.
And in a moment, I slowly feel everything as warm
My hands learn the language of breaths.
Come on, answer me with your eyes.
Should I trace the sinful ends tonight?

beauty, creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Promise

I could help you out,
by an unhook, a tweeny move,
But who shall hold your wings then,
When the bra falls of the grounds
and the breasts turn to voluptuous beasts of touch.
The arch of the back shall intensify the visions
For a sword out of a sheath shines and tastes the brightest.
I could taste em, the edges of your sword made collarbone,
Promise you shall read my work for lifetime,
If i lost my tongue caressing your body

beauty, creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

The Smell of Hunger

I lit my sins,
with uneven puffs.

This four legged famished beauty,
Whimpers at my arrival.

The cost of redemption for tonight,
is just a Parle-G costing 5.

His dusted eyes chews my innocence,
I tremble with an alcohol choked breath

I search for my wallet :
While my inherent identity made of coins gets molested by a bark from stomach.

His nose has evolved a knack for sniffing the midnight deluded from the crowd
He savors the feast of the road while his tail wags.

My sins eviscerate in every dreams I have.
But I had fed a dog, Couldn’t it be better?

Than smelling his hunger and seeing him disappear
I have become, what I have always feared.

A god who sends rain
and drowns those get too close.

beauty, creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Lie

The hair is all spiraled up and soft
with the ends loose,
Burned of a fire black, but still
exists as the creamy mass of delicacy.
Your smile is a carved wet symphony
A sound in silence, with eyelashes the color of offsprings of dark.
The skin bloom of a pink becomes your second skin,over the fair white,
Sculpting your body, caressing and holding
Your bosoms and curves firmly in a strap of color known
Every curve traced melodiously,
The smile can make anyone forget the touch of all soft curves below the neck and beyond.
But I am a poet, not like the rest of them,
I would go down below, to live all
with my same bare hands with which i write.
Because they have never learned to lie.

Writings to Heaven

Shashank Bhardwaj

Category Archives: beauty