wrap the darkness around me

I want to feel its inner surface

bone cold, lustrous black liquid silk

let this night be my grave

shhh…make no noise

my wounded heart sleeps


I turned you into a poem

I could never say out loud,

But deep within me

your name is a song on loop,

love has set aflame the night in my eyes,

the purple moon rides across the rufescent sky,

there is a carnival tonight

and I am fishing for stars.


 my body tends to remembers

things i told it to forget

like the gaze of your thumb

encircling my breast

and all the conversations 

 had in the language of 

breath, tongue and lips 


wrapped in the icy warmth of silence
memories have turned green
under the empty aching blue
of your absence.
I collect your whispers and
arranged them in tight sentences (lest they flee)
try to make sense of it.
In your absence
sadness of things speaks for you.
Your abject indifference has seeped in
and taken shape of everything around me.
Words have long since turned strangers
The cell phone has turned into a paper weight. 
No, if you think I am saying all this
because I miss you, you are wrong,
One doesn’t miss oneself but
gutters too have limits when the sky pours it’s rain 



Overwhelmed by his scent,

she throws her arms around his neck,

 draws him close,

her breasts, full nippled,

brush against his chest.

Surprised, his arms stretch forward,

his hands  gently reach for her waist.

Afternoon light streams through

the window of the barroom,

and in that moment their lips meet.

He crossed a continent to be with her.

In their imaginations, in a virtual world,

they had merged their beings for months

now close at last, they talk, they laugh

and kiss as they explore,

Soon the moment will end

and all that will remain

will be a nostalgia,

echoes of  memories and 

moments shared

in nondescript bars,

cafe, and hotels.

 (inspired by a photograph by James Goddard. ) 

You and Me – A Collection of Chaos

lately I have become  a collector of chaos. smudged words, crazily crisscrossed paragraphs, some images, music, assortments of drawings, skirmishes, idiosyncrasies,  noises and distractions, thoughts pressed into wayside, visual ideas, blotches of ink(tear stained)- marginalia and the frail silences that crumbles at touch. it is so good to write on paper with pen/pencil (sometimes colored, mostly black). this click clack of keys and the letters popping up is so impersonal, unfeeling and yet here they are some scratchings of  my mind.


sit back,  relax

let me tell you a story

hand-feed you words (said and unsaid)

in bite size morsels

i owe them to you

these handful of stories

spiced and seasoned pieces of me

that i have carved and cut out just for you

let me ooze my honeyed voice all over your naked body

and unveil unawakened pleasures

nothing abstract

but something that you can see, touch, taste

drift with the heated slumbering lemon minted aroma

of this mindless concoction

i have thrown your logics and cynicism

into the beat-up tin pot

unsavoury as they are

dinner tonight is sex on plate

and an extra olive in your martini.


i miss the taste of sun

its sweet heat dripping from your mouth to mine

all the way to our necks and further down

i miss the summer

 the cayenne dusted ripe mangoes 

eaten as they should be (with bare hands) , with abandon

just the way we love

in all its messiness

love can be messy in many ways

and we loved that messiness, didn’t we?

till you gave it an entirely new meaning


sometimes it is difficult to make out if  it is loss of feeling or a feeling of loss

downward and inward

i let my soul sink into yours

a bottomless pit of hopeless despair

i could have avoided it( really?)

had i asked you normal questions (but you hate all type of questions so its something i am assuming) (i also assume too much)

questions about outside

your work,  the holiday you took (family holiday)

your favorite movie dialogues

the car you drive

your financial investments

the highs and lows of

day to day existence

the occupational hazards

the deals that found closure or slipped away

your future prospects

normal questions that normal  people ask

but what did i do?

I asked you about your fears

asked you to tear out your  inside

unravel that wound-tight ball of yarn (that’s you)

drop and let it roll freely, mindlessly

to come undone fully

to examine the knots, the snags, the frayed ends

and tell me what you felt

i wish i was normal

and asked you  normal questions ( maybe about the weather)(change of season)

I should have tried harder

with the the niceties  that defined our relationship

(sometimes i wonder if it was the same thing that powered it and weakened it) 

I should have carefully thought out interesting stories

constructed delightful light headed conversations

I wish I was normal and done those normal things

I shouldn’t  have asked you to fill the long deafening silences (weren’t they already filled with silent shattering noise of heartbreak? sheesh.. I should listen closely and more often)

or asked if the songs you played meant something (it was all about positioning, wasn’t it?)

I should have given those practiced smiles

made silly faces, worn funny masks ( i tried at times)

goofed around (made small talk)

I wish I was normal and done those normal things

but I did not


I asked about your fears and what moved you

evoked your secret longings

i made you open  lids after lids 

of what you preferred to keep closed ( did i talk you into this? guess i talk too much 😦 )

i tried,  tried ceaselessly

to rekindle ‘something’ (rekindle? or kindle?)

but it will never be the same again (i lost but did you win?)

and i wonder if  ‘you’  and ‘i’

will ever be ‘us’ again

or if  there is any ‘we’ left

a spark maybe ? in the embers slowly turning cold (i am afraid to stir the dying fire lest it consumes me)

if i had believed

in the illusions of normalcy

i would  not have suffered dreams

(i would have been normal. ‘and the ‘we’ in ‘us’ would still have been there)