creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Love, poetry, Prose

Helps

Its dark and damp,
The voices disappear in this hall,
The sound of us will never echo,
so we take advantage of this loneliness,
as the way it should be taken,
My hands slowly start touching your lips
in the darkness as you close your eyes,
The trace the neck, the firm cleavage in the tank top going all the way below to your short skirt,
I am just brewing your thighs slowly,
Till you shed the shyness
Kiss my lips
And spread your legs, as I wanted.

Our lips meet in the darkness,
Trying to make the slightest of the sound,
I feel your tongue slowly licking mine,
You take my hand to your tank top where I press the breasts slowly and fill the comfortable bra.
We keep going on touchy in the dark
Feeling your nipples, your clevage and kissing you on the back,
The recliner helps, doesn’t it?

Desire, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

You

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?

creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Poems, poetry

Prize

Bound, tied and muted to surprise,
you lay down on my bed, naked as a prize.
I veil your eyes in this never ending darkness, whispering to intensify this sumptuous treat,
As I pour freshly molten wax drops all over your body, to make sure that tonight, you cannot sleep,

Come warm my hands now slowly ,
Take them between your tempting legs,
I will try to melt them with my tongue,
Till you start whispering ‘Yes!’

creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Poems, poetry

Felt

The unknown are felt,
With hands moving inside,
Feeling the black bra, while
your face turns red with joy of ecstacy.
Everything turns to water, your lips below
turn into a fountain of desire,
and your legs closing with wetness.
Waiting to be touched
Waiting to be consumed
Waiting to be felt

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

A Blanket of Memories

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.

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?

Desire, Heart, Life, Love, Poems, poetry, Writings

Voyage – I

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. .

Writings to Heaven

Shashank Bhardwaj