You and Me – Billet-doux like crushed violets on white satin sheet


It was a brief encounter. So brief that before they could get over the clumsiness of it all, it got over leaving them yearning , longing , desperately wanting to stop the hands of clock so they could spend one more night together, one more day, one more hour of togetherness.

The reason I write in third person is because I want to look at  it from a distance. The ‘ I ‘ dissolved in those moments what have left  scent of love in my hair, in memories that nestle in the hollow of my neck, in the delicate web of my fingers and in places that blossomed and came to life only after he touched. First the mind, then the  heart, and then the body.

In waves of breathless, mindless ecstasy
he breathes in, sharp
she purrs, catlike

her body a Smörgåsbord

he savours her

each pip

crushes between

ravenously longing

tongue and teeth

and lips

pomegranate

knutschfleck the color of orgasms

sensuous syllables

in blushed hues of red

billet-doux

like crushed violets

on white satin sheet

revealed

the morning after

a phantasmal explosion of a rainbow awry

Psychedelic bodies

engulfed

consumed

colonized

The meteoric more beautiful

than the everlasting 

*

they parted

carrying

 scent of each other
the warmth of their passion

only to float

 into each others dream

a dream that flew

across a thousand miles

and two oceans in between

A dream that stupefied her. She went through it in a trance like state. All the romanticized notions that she had built up in her mind evaporate through thin air.  All that remained were the bodies – arms entangling and untangling. His voice touching places inside her as if someone moving through a house flicking light switches. Her mouth a molotov. The smell of sex charged the room, circling over them like a ghost.

Love when turned to passion is brave, furious and loud. There is no time for fantasies and honeyed mush. When passion takes over you don’t want a just a heart, you want everything –  flesh, blood, and bones. You want to occupy every thought, every breath, every pulse. You want fingerprints tattooed all over you. It is strange, this fire that ignites two human bodies. It’s a fire that consumes without burning. A fire that transcendent and purifies everything.

She felt like a lovely bonfire burning day and night on a tropical coast filled with scent of salt that gently tickles down the spine and the heat that melts the body like wax embraced by the flame. A teasing burn of silky excitement, noting like anything she had felt before. Nothing could calm this sensation but sin and for once she was ready for it.

Quickies don’t include showers nor luxurious soaks in tubs with rose petals floating in them. They include blind and furious salt laced bodies, tongues and mouths driven by thirst.

They lay there in the realm of sleep, without sleeping,  half with fear , half with wonder at what they had awakened in each other. Trembling in bitter-sweet longing, enchanted, bewitched.  Suspended in time and place. And then they kissed – his lips on hers telling all that which his stumbling words could never do.

She let him sleep. All disheveled and unwound. His head buried between her breasts. Dressed in nothing but his undress like a careless animal.  She watched his body slowly become a silhouette and longed to mold it into hers  but stopped. She loved to watch him as he lay in deep slumber. Her heart beat outside her body flushed with this new-found deep sexual pleasure. She felt anesthetized  by sensations one can’t speak of without sounding absurd. One can only sentimentalized it after it is over.

Here was the man she loved, like a  child with his appetites. She had yielded to him what he wanted, willingly. She let him ruin her with his intense love. In those intimate hours with herself she felt the fervent rush inside her which had known no outlet till now.

The wooden floor creaked under her bare feet as she carefully tip-toed to the bathroom. Turning on the light she gazed at her nude body that  quivered with magic and mayhem of the moments gone by. She smiled at the silliness of all that she had imagined and fantasized about both of them. Reality was far more fascinating than fiction. Every pore of her body sent out a message that said , “I am here. I am alive.”  The cold water from the tap sizzled on her smooth skin and electrified her entire body. She let it trickle down the hollow of her neck and flow like a rivulet between her aching breasts. Her cheeks were on fire by realization of the fact that for once in her entire life she gave in completely to her desires. Unrestrained, Unchained and she felt gloriously happy.

Tomorrow she would wander with him amid the beautiful ruins.

As she synced her breathing with his she realized something. From now on she would live two lives – one that she was living and one that she would always wonder about. A dream within a dream. A life  that lay beyond the invisible line that separated their worlds. A line she will never be able to cross. A line that told her place. She brushed the thought aside. This was their time and she did not want to lose even a moment.  The morning sun will bring the hour of separation closer but for now the shadow of her arm circled his waist  and neither the sleep or the night could separate them.

PHOTOSHOP IMAGE copyright-  tikulicious©

You can read the rest of the posts in the series here YOU AND ME 

Snapshot – GBE 2 Week #66


His hands trembled as he tried to light a cigarette. It took him five tries to get it right. He leaned against the wall to steady himself. Everything was a blur. His mind became warped.  He could see nothing, think nothing.  And then came the tears. They ebbed and flowed like seasonal flood. Only that his was not seasonal. He hadn’t cried in years. Slowly streaming down his face like hot lava at first and then like a deluge that surprised even him, hot water for pain like blood flowing from an open wound. Perhaps it was a wound. He did not know, couldn’t think, and couldn’t stop.

She came to him not like a memory but a stray thought. A thought that catches you unaware at the least expected moment. It was something he didn’t want but he wept all the same, shedding all inhibitions. He slumped to the floor and wept like never before into the deep night.

And then it stopped as suddenly as it started. A dull ache swept through his body, a cocktail of myriad emotions that he could not decipher in a single moment. It drained him out.

He lit another cigarette and took a deep extended drag and felt the smoke fill his lungs. Slowly he exhaled and through the smoke screen he saw her. She must have been in her early twenties. He had just begun his career as a photographer and travelled all over the world. People, places fascinated him. He found a story behind mundane objects inanimate objects and infused life in them through his lens. He first spotted her near a roadside café. The city was shimmering in bright sunlight after an early summer rain. The breeze flirted with her waist long windswept hair as she stood with her hands embracing a hot mug of coffee. The harbour in the background made a pretty picture of her. He could see the hint of mascara in her deep dark eyes. She was dressed in a floral dress that clings to her voluptuous body giving it a sensuous flow.

She seemed oblivious to her surroundings. Near her, on a wrought iron table, lay a book. The pages fluttered like hummingbird’s wings. Unable to contain himself he pulled out his camera and focused on her. From behind his powerful lens he could see how ravenously beautiful she was. She did not wear any make up but her face shone like molten bronze. He zoomed a bit more and studied her profile mesmerized to react. It was like a dream sequence. He quickly clicked one snapshot after another and then stopped as if under a spell. His eyes still glued to the viewfinder. She brushed her hair back in a dancer like sweep and in one swift motion picked up the book and vanished in the sea of people who has emerged from a nearby mosque.

Before he could realize he had lost her.

Cursing himself for a lost opportunity he briskly walked back to the hotel unable to stop the excitement of looking at the pictures. On uploading he could find only one of the many he had clicked. Rest of it was as black as night. He was puzzled and angered at this unusual occurrence but the eyes that gazed at him from the screen of his laptop held him captive. For the next six days he went out every day in the city looking for her.

And then he saw her again, this time in a book shop. She wore a plain black dress and had tied her hair in a swirl. He made no mistake this time and approached her from behind. She suddenly turned as if aware of his presence. A little startled he stopped in his steps. His knees became jelly as she beamed at him.

‘You took my picture that day at the harbour, didn’t you?” she said in honeyed voice. She was a Latino for sure. He made a mental note of it.

‘So, you noticed.’ He smiled back.

For his age he was exceptionally fit and good-looking and he could see that in the mischievous twinkle of her eyes.

“Would you give me a copy of it?”

“Yes, of course” he said.

He took out the printed copy of her snapshot from his wallet and handed it to her. He felt the warmth of her body pass like an electric current through his body.

What was wrong with him? Stupefied, he picked up a white rose from a nearby vase and carefully tucked it in her hair. She didn’t stop him.

She glanced herself in the glass door, smiled softly, placed the snapshot in the book she was carrying and left without a second glance. He inhaled deeply absorbing her fragrance and came out in the street. She was nowhere in the sight.

He left the city two days later for another assignment. They never met again but her memory stayed with him every moment. She became an invisible companion who filled the emptiness of his life. In those moments of quiet when he was alone with himself he created memories with him, made love to her, walked hand in hand through empty walkways and streets of cities he travelled. She became his shadow. He never felt alone and for some reason he was happy.

It was twenty-five years ago.

He went to island of Majorca many times and every time his eyes had searched for her.

A tear silently left the corner of his eyes. He dragged himself to the window and looked at the dark night sky. It seemed to have become deeper than ever. The breeze brought  fragrance of winter roses from the manicured gardens of the hotel.

He closed his eyes. How could he not recognise her face even from under hundreds of tubes that ran everywhere? He felt a lump rise in his throat. What had brought her to this godforsaken city in America? Where was she all these years? He cursed himself for not ever asking for an address or a phone number back then. He always believed that the universe will conspire to bring them together again but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it to be like this.

He was in New York to attend to his ailing mother. She was the only other patient in the room that smelled of nothing but sanitized air. It was on her bedside table he had found the book of verses. Mom had told him amidst uncontrollable sobs, how the frail lady on the other bed had handed her book to the attending doctor and gestured him to pass it on to her just before she died, the book which she always kept close to her frail heart. An emotional avalanche hit him the moment he recognized it.He had stared in stoned silence at the book, unable to breathe, his eyes transfixed on the empty bed to his left.. He had picked it with trembling hands as everything else had slowly begun to fade around him. The snapshot had slipped and fallen near her feet and he was once again held captive by those gorgeous eyes. It was then he noticed for the first time the sadness that filled them. With great effort he had managed to pick the photograph and the book and unable to withhold the surge of pain and hurt of loss he had rushed out of the hospital as if driven by some hidden force.

The flutter of paper brought him out of trance. The breeze had become stronger and the pages of the book were fluttering like wings of hummingbird, just as they were on that summer day. The snapshot lay in their shadow.

This post is written for GBE2- WEEK #66 (8-19-12 to 8-25-12): Snapshot

 

These Old Shades


 

I saw

Pictures

inside old albums

that had been hidden away from me

purposely

Your pictures

which he doesn’t know I have seen

Maybe he thought of  changing them

but then just could not

and even if he had

a face like yours will remain in his memory

etched forever

In his songs I feel your presence

The song you sang together

watching many a  sunsets

from the verdant hills

of  that quiet little town

I get the whiff of your fragrance

each time he twirls  a  glass of wine sensuously

and raises it to his lips

You are present in the

soft smile that starts from

the corners of his mouth

and reaches his eyes

You are always present

in the mirror

infront of which

he stops to take a last glance

before he steps out of house

and in the first rays of morning sun

that play on his body

as he sleeps

Often. I wonder

If the nights

we spent together

match the magic of those

spent with you

Did the fire that sets his body

aflame with passion

kindle you

and sent the sparks floating in the air

I think it did

I can see how he would have

made love to you

in his controlled manner

for he tries that with me

I  feel his hunger

fueled by ravenous passion

his readiness to devour

my voluptuous  body

( he always loved his women to be a mouthful)

I feel it reaching a crescendo

and then it diminishes

And yet

his craving rises

craving to consume your body

as I lie next to him

consumed by the  ghost of you

(Image credit. Google Image search)

Took My Breath Away


This post is written for  BLOGESHWAR and ANUBHOOTI .

He was ecstatic to finally have me all to himself.

We made love that night.

It was something we had never experienced before.

Our bodies, hearts and souls melted into each other.

Something possessed us.

He held me tightly in his strong arms, afraid to let go, and kissed me full on my mouth.

It was a long passionate kiss. I closed my eyes and let him take control.

My fingernails dug into his muscular back.

In all that excitement, I forgot to breath.

Suddenly he let go

desperately trying to feel my pulse

I died in his arms that night.

Or  Maybe

he simply took my breath away .

Wednesday 7 PM


The heat is unbearable.  I am going through a strange phase, I do not know what to call it. A feeling of restlessness is creeping in. The summer afternoons make me dizzy with thoughts. It’s been some time since I discovered that my body was not at ease. Doctors are the last people I would want to visit but I had no choice. The comfortably numb feeling was now becoming a bother. The tingling sensation in the limbs continues to remind me that I need to take care, pay attention. A warning.

Life is strange. I have suddenly lost interest in everything. Everything seems strange , fake. I want to shed the masks I am wearing. I have began to question relationships, emotions, intelligence, my very own existence. What am I doing here , why am I alive  dragging my sick body, mind and soul around for nothing? Have I lost my way and the purpose of living?

My uneasiness disturbs the stillness of the afternoon. There is only one sound that overpowers the inner chatter is the hum of the AC outside the window.

I am beginning to hate noise, sounds irritate me. I want to escape inside a cocoon. My hair uncombed and disheveled stick to the nape of  neck. I want to chop them off. Go bald maybe. I am as crumpled as the sheet on which I lie watching the fan struggling to circulate some air in the stuffy room..

I snatch a bottle of chilled water from the fridge and gulp it down ,  it cools my inner but the uneasy feeling continues.

Standing at the window of my ma’s 9th floor apartment I stare blankly at the concrete jungle out there. The building remind me of deserted graves in a forgotten cemetery. It is depressing for the first time for graves never depress me. They have a way to communicate but the sight of these high-rise builder flats,  old crumbling houses drain me.

I pull the curtains. A memory of a loved one is nagging me since morning. I woke up with a dream and a bitter taste in my mouth. I know you will find your way to this page. Silently .

I want to cut out the noise, zone out  drift away. I shoo the memories away. Intruders from a distant foreign land. I wince as a sharp splinter of a dream goes deep into my heart. I remind myself to stay alert and not get seduced by the distant calling and yet my heart rebels. I have developed a taste for getting bloodied and bruised.

Incomplete , mute stories of two hearts living in two different worlds.

love.. romance… lust… I understand the last. Love as I saw it sucked the soul from my body , romance was a smoke pattern on the walls of my mind. Lust .. yea that is real. very real. Unsaid but felt strongly. Camouflaged yet visible like an undercurrent. Lust never lasts. It never can be a bond between two souls. It is like a bush fire.

I never asked for explanations. I know the reason we parted.

Virtual world is a strange place. unknown people wanting desperately to connect with each other, seeking love which has  a hollowness attached to it. Yet we give it , let ourselves flow with the current, hearts break, disillusionment , hurt, we knew it all and yet we give it seek more. Addicted to the something so unnatural.

I saw you , an image, an enigma ( yes you were) , I was trying to disconnect with real and move to another realm. got sucked into the web. You were like a tiger on hunt. I feel this now. Slowly moving in the shadows, distracting the prospective prey to get away from the herd. You had set your eyes , eagle eyes, on the target. circling around till the moment was ripe. No you did not want to kill. You are not cruel. you were amused, you wanted to play. It is rare but not uncommon. Tigers play with their prey, make it comfortable, make it run, tire it and then pounce on it ripping it’s soul out of the body. You played very well but unfortunately lost the grip.In a twinkle of an eye I realized the hollowness of the thing and yet ….

I saw my  mistakes, errors of judgment, your failings, my fall…all so clear now. All the excuses  made for you when others pronounced you guilty are now vacuous billboards along the stack of drained words.

Resentment crows over the dusty horizon, a sour taste, a feeling much beyond hatred.

What’s that feeling?

I am trying to figure out the deafening, demeaning silence in my heart but am unable to comprehend it yet.

I look back and watch the strange threads of lust love and hate  tangled and knotted . A crowd of memories of you jostle and fight for space,  filling and overflowing from the gaping spaces.

The dust filled sky is silently watching the turmoil. I can taste  as the dust sits on me. you burn me like this summer sun. blisters .. incurable and painful.

I have lost the relevance in your life just as the smoke patters on my heart walls have dissolves into the air making it even more stuffy in the room.Shadows marked across the heart…

I am listening to the song on my mobile.. in the end it doesn’t really matter. There is a maddening urge to throw it all out and disappear.

The mind cautions the heart against rummaging in the bottomless depths of human emotions.

“Beware the flood-gates of human passion”.

Who is listening… ? Have you even connected to someone who transcendent into the very fabric of your life. Someone whom you have never met , nor will ever maybe, who is just  known to you . Someone virtual not real and yet he is there in every little thing that revolves around your everyday life. An enigma , an reputation you have created. He may not be aware of it for it is you who wants him to be there in every waking , sleeping moment . You weave your life around him , that image  which has began to seep through your senses. You become that person as he takes the hold on you completely.

Why and how can a person who drifted from some distant land, distant space occupy your each living moment? Why is it that I am unable to detach myself ? Why is it that even after such a suffocating silence my heart strings play the notes of his song. Why is it that his presence haunts me day and night?

Why does the heart aches for something so utterly impossible? Why do I seek him  knowing that he is just a mirage in the vast  desert land? Is it ego that holds me captive to grudges and memories or love  or longing or just a need or am I lingering on to a relationship feeding myself on the pain and agony? What am I looking for? Is it a blame game I want to win ? How does it matter  who is right or wrong? What will it change ? What will I achieve ?Why the memories that brought a smile and warmed my heart slash through my heart now ? How can a sweet moment turn so bitter to bring a taste of bile in my mouth and yet I treasure it ?

Why I need an explanation ? Will it mend the broken heart or bring back the freshness of love with which it all began? It rips me apart to let go so I hang on to the nurse the open sores silently I close my eyes experiencing the throb , the ache , the hurt. Self inflicted trauma.

Unfulfilled dreams, a feeling of loss of something which I doubt was ever mine. A longing for someone who does not exist in life. A virtual fatal attraction. A giver turned into seeker. That’s me.

Why do I yearn even after receiving such hammering from him?

Too often sincerity is an under-rated virtue in modern life.

Some people  leave a void impossible to fill.

I have a feeling my soul is spent and I have nothing more to give to give to the world.

My love tainted.

The torrent of emotions screaming down the insane moist greens like a dive bomber inflicting greatest damage and then a calm.. gentle , seductive  blend of heaven and hell.

The post started on Tuesday and has lingered on till today. ..passions flow unrestrained.. they need  to flow ..they will  till I find myself again.

Cross posting Prat’s Blog : An Amorous Antithesis


I starting reading Prat’s Blog Ginger & Cardamom and found how aromatic and spiced up life can be. He is an excellent blogger and writes poetry, humor, stories, personal and philosophical articles. His blog always has a fresh flavor and a frangrance to die for as far as blog writing goes.

Here is one awesome post I want my friends to read.

An Amorous Antithesis

Amorous Antithesis

Prat says ,“I got a forwarded mail regarding a competition which appeared in Washington Post, the competition asked for a two-line rhyme with the most romantic first line, but the least romantic second line.

I am not sure if this competition is genuine but it was a good challenge. So I thought it would be a great idea to try something like this.

This is the poem I came up with-

My darling when I saw you, I fell in love for the first time,
On retrospect that is till date my most horrendous crime.

The beautiful twinkle of your eyes and the tinge of light blue,
The bill of those contacts on my credit card are still due.

Your lovely walk, inviting a thousand glances and riveting stares,

Read the rest by following the link. Have fun .. I am sure you won’t regret this one adventure 😀 .. The poem was selected as Blogadda’s Spicy Saturday Pick.

Thank Prateek