Pour it all
and spread it slowly
with your bare hands,
this cream isn’t that sweet
but you are gonna like it anyway,
so come and swallow it
as you suck me out,
and I close my eyes.
Take it all in,
let me feel the saliva mix
with the cream and melt.
Go on at your pace,
I can wait, in darkness,
all night, all day,
just don’t stop in between,
tonight.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
She once asked,
for the morning tea
with those sparkling eyes
full of thirst.
I paid no heed knowingly
to let her suffer sweetly from within.
I didn’t expect though:
In the warm drowsiness
she would prepare it with her soft hands
after removing my shorts
and gulp it all in,
slowly and steadily
keeping my eyes closed.
I come back home,
to find a trail
of your clothes
and your inner-wear
leading me to the
swimming pool,
where you lay
with your legs spread,
nipples erect and
hands wet from
touching the
necessary places.
No wonder I forgot to ask,
‘What is for Dinner Tonight?’.
The Feast was ready.
Your fingers map my body,
The neck turns into a calloused valley.
The breasts are the warm deserts now.
This waist is a barren wasteland, dying of thirst.
Between my legs
flows a river unseen,
a forest untouched, by fingers.
A paradise lost in time.
Transverse this map tonight,
make it rain, just conjure a flood
all over my body.
the flavours of the paradise await you, come, seek a taste of forgotten heavens.
I don’t care now,
I can’t wait now,
Teach me this cartography, Just don’t ask why.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
We were the lost mermaids that drowned in each other to find ounces of unforgettable love.
I kissed your neck while you nailed my back crafting a map of your moans.
Tracing your breasts to the tips that had waited for me as an impatient wave wanting to touch the shore.
The nipples tasted like sweet honey dripped in cream for you made a connoisseur of desire.
Our muscles melted in yellow shimmering.
We saw the sun tracing our nakedness slowly.
Of wanting
and the reactions.
Of the tease
and the injunctions.
Of the touch
and the revulsions.
Of the kiss
and the deductions.
Of the stripping
and the seductions.
Of melting of naked bodies
and the inductions.
Of the aches and sweat
and the conclusions.
Of the slithering memories
and the destructions.
Of the possible repetition
and the needed constructions.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
unhook your bra now,
and melt slowly in my arms
lets sleep till winter.
Writings to Heaven 