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

To remember a smile

It’s just a piece of skin
aching for a laughter
In a world that makes desolation
And calls it peace.

A thousand fireworks
look like lights without laughter
With your memories without laughter
My ears become a temple begging for a worship

Smile now,
For someone
For me.
Don’t let my temple disappear in a map of this world undiscovered.

Worship my eyes instead.
They smile without dreams.
Without reasons
Without fear.
Come tell me, do your eyes seek me
Am I your Christmas?

When the world desolates you away from me.

beauty, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

The Swan with Brown eyes.

She doesn’t float,
but the water and the world around her move
to justify her movements.

I observe bleakly, like a child observing snow.
Those brown eyes, the red beak.
of how could it exist:
In a timeline,In our timelines,
We briefly intersect each other’s life
and now she is inside my head with those eyes.

The nights turn to days,
the days turn to sentences.
I greet her everyday.
She becomes a prayer for an atheist.
A Song for the voiceless.
A Dance for crippled.

Would she be thinking same?
as I observe her even now?
Why?
Why not?

Is this a swan song?
Let her answer all.
Let her answer none.
The eyes speak for those who have learn to observe.
Let me observe.

Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Poems, poetry

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, 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.

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

Move

Why don’t you just move your eyes.
To eclipse the shyness.
For I fear I will have to move your hair with my tips
My hands could trace the dark sparkle of your eyes.
Your lips but are unforgiving and unlearned,
they don’t tell me where to stop,
at the chin or at the soft flesh of neck?
I could sense the unnerving cleavage tremble
With this touch,
bosoms turning restless as a kid dissolved in nightmare
I feel a warmth brew in your breath
Does you have butterflies in your belly
When I do that?

The hands have a memory of their own,
They tresspass the neck, leaving warm flesh and bones for the tongue
To the unresting clevage that drowns in desire.
The soft breasts are sumptuously caressed,
Leaving an entire room for voices.
Feel the heartbeat through your lips,
Let the tongue convolve like spies on death sentence.
The waist turns into a carved flesh,
With black jeggins reflecting every curve within
Your could feel the hips firmed and soft with the black panties inside.
Roll down a feather and it will jump of the curves of hip.
Roll down a feather it will caress the breasts and land between the curves of the legs.

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?

Desire, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Poems, poetry

Dream -II

I feel your lips with the tips,
The wetness escapes to my hand
Your neck feels the breath
the warmth, the wetness
as the lips and tongue are licked.
Hold it right there, dissolve the taste.
As the hands caress your breasts, feel your soft bra and entrapped nipples.
Just moan in the slowest you can,
Take the hand, teach it the ways.
Its all yours now even with your eyes closed.

The necks are traced, my teeth turn thirsty
Biting into their soft flesh, caressing with the tongue
Breasts are felt as hands move inside the top,
Touching the bra, feeling the soft clevage,
The erect nipples and the warm breasts.
Don’t break the lips, feel the touch through them

Writings to Heaven

Shashank Bhardwaj

Tag Archives: Life