Its pitch black and secluded,
the moon is our only light,
The cold breeze our only comfort.
we find ourselves alone and secluded
just like the waves, totally restless,
Over sand, you pull me up close
And make kiss the lips softly,
licking them, Feasting on the tongue slowly
As my hands slowly caress your hips over
Your wet shorts, feeling every piece of curves in the hips, I intend to stop at dawn.
What about you?
© Shashank Bhardwaj
As the night rests it’s breath
over my skin,
It hymns a taste of memory
That drowns my eyes
With a dream.
A million unforgettable mirrors,
mate with the light of my eyes.
I become a moment of a dying lifetime.
Come, decipher my touch.
Let it paint a voice in your dreams too.
Till we swallow the reality entirely
At least for tonight.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
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?
© Shashank Bhardwaj
You went into the sea at dawn.
And made a necklace out of the voyage,
Nobody knew whether your were a mermaid,
A sea goddess or the beauty obsessed with the shores of the sea.
But I didn’t think twice, before breaking that necklace with my fingers.
Just to touch your lips,
Just to imagine,
What could I have done,
To taste your tongue.
To drown in your eyes,
I voyaged voicelessly into the sea beneath your legs.
They say, your eyes had story to tell
But I tasted them slowly in the deep blue darkness
It was tempting,
To witness your fair and subtle flesh,
I wanted to touch every inch of it,
But I was told that dreams disappear with
a laugh,
So I waited for you to sleep
and my hands knew what to do as you drifted away.
I traced your collarbone,
an arched sculpture of desire,
Till my lips forgot what it meant to kiss,
For I have never tasted blood or had the craving for so,
They went below to the waist, to feel the curves that smell like the fresh dawn and tempted me
Like a nonchalant dreamer,
From the waist , you drove my fingers to the breasts,
and turned me addicted to touch.
Just don’t stop. Now
Does it tickle or you forget everything?
As the fingers trace from the neck
To the end of the cleavage,
The unbuttoning of your shirt
Is there a mystery as the bra awaits its place on floor,
If only we could stop our lips
And pray to the heaven,
To not to make their flesh running
With the blood of desire. .
© Shashank Bhardwaj
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
© Shashank Bhardwaj
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.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
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
Seeing the soft sumptuous breasts within the black halter that acts as the veil,
the arched back tempts my lips just by imagining it
firmed by a comfortable lacy black hook.
It goes down in a perfect curve of desire to the hips and below,
I believe someone sculpted you,
Am I right?
From neck to the tempting breasts and to the waist, some did sculpted those curves in your body
Don’t tell me wrong now.
I can see it.
Writings to Heaven 