It is summer already
so unhook your bra,
and melt while lying over me,
I shall drink your existence,
and caress the water,
you leave over,
Till the winter comes.
Tag Archives: love
Longing
Waves, the grieving mothers:
always keep coming back to the shores.
With a hope of being embraced
and held forever.
Alas!
But all I see is their exodus
beneath the beautiful crimson sky,
with salt in my breath,
and their unseen teary eyes.
They say, the sound of the ocean is lovely.
But what if it is a humongous melody of lament
conjured from the longing for its shores?
A homonym for the humans
wrapped in nature’s plight.
A dream fed to me
by the silence of the night.
A memory so wrong,
it now seems right.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
In Warmth
With your laced clothing,
you resplend an aura
that smells of lust and raging whiskey,
the ice fed hands trace your fragile
and sensitive breasts, as you unhook your bra.
With my warm tongue, I lick the chocolate over your pointed nipples.
You caress your fingers with the water between your legs.
I tear away your black panties,
and I am sure you wished for the sooner of it.
I come inside you, inside us
as we tremble as terrified horses
riding in the storm, embracing and feasting
on one another.
Your hips turn warm,
The legs go tired,
we climax in each other arms
and wait to begin again,
in the sunlight, we escaped from.
Swim Away – I
I still remember
the way you swam away,
wriggling out of your clothes,
I could see your wet breasts,
with the tips still drowned in drops.
You took my hand between your legs,
and whispered me to begin my art
of dissolving your shyness into thousand
moans of madness.
The tips turned dry, begging me to lick their
shame of existence away.
I worked through them, I worked below you too.
I sculpted a river of ecstacy within you,
and you went through all, by letting our tongues
mute our lives for sometimes.
The silence, we could still hear.
The silence, we can never forget.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
Measure
a thirst,
is the dryness that floats from the throat
is the snow that burns everything
is the fire without a crackling voice
is the river polluted with a meaningless existence
is the reality drinking bottles of dreams
is the death despised deeply
is the shadow unloved
is a blessing and a curse.
is the human, too much loved.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
Promised Children.
Dance to the frivolous melodies,
the time still remains.
We are still children,
sobered under the sun,
sobered by the rain.
A memory is a drop wiped away from the lips,
A potent taste was forgotten on purpose.
To become a child, forget your hands first.
The rain envelops the waves of time,
so learn to close your eyes,
long enough without sleeping
without drifting without crying
and the present will wash off itself
You will be on a ground,
with fresh wet grass,
Your dog still alive,
the cakes do not make you fat,
it’s beautiful,
as it should be,
as I was promised,
long ago.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
Savoury Cream
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
Writings to Heaven 