beauty, creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Love, Poems, Poetry, Writings

Time

I tried talking but somehow couldn’t 
I waited but it was not worthwhile.
How can I make you a moment,
and disappear forever 

You stay and exist as a glass,
beautiful and untouchable ,
Even In my house of touches.

I am not the winter that dies,
Not the summer that is unbearable,
I am the moon, 
I work on the tides.

Shall we dive once?
As you promised.
I need you in waves,
To drift wherever you want.

Just once again.

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creative-writing, Desire, Fiction & Poetry, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Temptation

The collar bone is a mellow beauty
held by infallible black straps of the unknown
that leads to softer dominions of flesh below.
Your smile above is etched in the eye,
But my hands forget those after

The lips are poignant and colorless,
That tempts the tongue to unthinkable pursuits,
The curve slips off like a fine bottle of sun kissed glass.

The breasts and waist are sculpted of desires
draped in black
An ice cube would melt and jump off the way
Of your curves, kindled by your wamth.
Just think, what it would to my words,
When they touch your lips.
Brewing temptation in my ink.

The unbuttoning continues,
The eyes are not shy of the sun now,
But of my eyes teasing every glance of your flesh,
The cleavage is an abyss molded within the bra
I trespaas them to the soft breasts held firmly within it.
Don’t whisper now, just moan.
Tell my fingers where to move now,
Should i unhook the way your eyes tell me to.

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

Numb

The sky is gray

A continuous shade

I bask in its glory.

The mud turns to clay

A storm is in play

But it never comes.

Each day stays the same

I don’t have to change

A stagnating story.

Your picture is still there,

a lip balm disappears.

Some memory of yours , still undone.

The sky is gray

I love this cliché

I’m comfortably numb.

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Articles, creative-writing, Desire, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry, Writings

Burning Sabbaticals

It has been a long hiatus, I have migrated to a new city, joined a new workspace , made an entire library and workstation but I miss the soothing of the writing I used to have. This hiatus grows on me, every time I try to sleep in the night, I wonder how my words sleep, aching, bellowing in despair to be entangled in a original thought.

It’s difficult to say where to begin and why, I must excuse the exits and replenish this sight. For today although I am drowning in my bed in this darkness, from tomorrow I shall be burning this sabbatical. It’s time to pour, outpour and flood the thoughts, lets begin, shall we?

New Writing Desk In a New City.
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creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Adieu

Its the numbing
the air that recedes one’s skin,
a void brews out of nothingness :
when someone exits unannounced
into the last ounce of warmth
remaining in this world.

What else can you add to sadness
to make it reasonable?
to make it decipherable?
to make it bearable?


there are no exits
in this existence,
we are bound
by remembrance
and forgetfullness,
the twin sisters
playing in the night and day.



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Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Bear

as you drift away in the bus,
whose windows are made up of just
last night’s raindrops,
remember these castles
and cathedrals : the memoirs of a fading 
glorious past, these icy beaches and almost sun kissed shorelines,
melancholic clouds, this wind just before it rains again.
This all brings me back to you.
So if your fingers tingle with a breeze,
Its just me dreaming with you.
I am not there but somewhere
I shall slip into your heart
with a smile for no reason.
Bear this presence till the sun wakes us up.

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