हाँ नहीं बताया
जब तुमने पूछा तब भी नहीं
कि जो कहानी पढ़ने का
तुमसे निवेदन किया था
उसकी मुख्य पात्रा में खुद को जानती हूँ
क्या तुम समझोगे मेरी विडंबना को?
उसकी तरह खुद को अनायास
भावनाओं में उलझा हुआ पाती हूँ
वह जो अनुचित लगता है
उसके बहाव में बह जाती हूँ
कल्पनाओं से मोहित हो जाती हूँ
मैं इनकार नहीं करती
तुमसे वो सब कहना, इस वक़्त अनुचित होगा
किंतु नहीं नियंत्रित कर पाती
गति हृदय की
हर बार

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उतना ही अंतर रहा
वास्तिविकता और कल्पनाओं में
तुम्हारे-मेरे मध्य दूरी जितना

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वो कविताएं
जो लिखनी शेष हैं
भय था कि तुम पढ़ ना लो
कि कोई जान न ले
वे स्मृतियाँ
जिनमें आज भी है, चेतना
जो रूप बदलती हैं
पर नहीं खोती, अस्तित्व
जो यदि तो शाश्वत होंगी
अन्यथा चले जाएंगी मेरे साथ ही
रहस्य बनकर

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moon accumulates silver
over his glossy face
he kisses me with his strawberry lips
his mouth is a sugary liquor
it tastes like heaven
and i rest my jaw
over his protruded collar bone
his skin smells of roses
he breaths and exhales poetry
instead of air, he drinks cups of
no sugar added sweetness
he pours out his daisy heart
for the sake of love

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i belong to your prayers
abiding sincere words
even when in vain
in the soul that
carries a mortal body
you belong to me
unknowingly and helplessly
no matter what went wrong
how the things were
you were made for me

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Poetry is the home to me
when there is no other home
and I can not fit in any heart.

When I am chilled to the bones
and nothing survives inside me,
only words chose to grow.

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i don't know

next time i look at you after a long, i ask you, i don't know how to -- (so many things) inside my head, lace up my lips, desires conceal. i don't know, how to say what to began with.
"i am not sunkissed flower like, i am an acrylic abstract, you moulded me. i still stand there out of the worldly circle. i am away, faraway from them. i am your hidden treasure."

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I swallow guilts like pills.
I talk to you, these winter
my lips are approx bleeding red.
I feel abnormally cold.
My eyes sore, your eyes
searching for love in them.
I am spluttered words
if you look at my features.
I am a short story,
you even smaller part of it
and I saw your face
myriad times, that I forgot
things other than that.

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this heart
is all
losses
and light
and nothing
fills
like illumination
ethereal
and golden
glowing
still vacant

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art is not always what you acquire
sometimes it adopts you.

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