The thrust of his beard
between my thigh
the tickling of his tongue
Around my thigh gap
with his hands exploring
the contours of my bossom
squeezing the erection
of dark graves

He enchanted a new dance
motioning our bodies
in sync
while I had let myself
be devoured
by his enraging lust
and let my juices
be savoured
by his hunger.

-

On nights when my mother
turns the temperature to
twenty two,
I smuggle you around
my arms
my left leg
curled towards the red Wall with
random stickers
wondering
if it is the summer blanket
or the memories of the night
when I snuggled
my arms
my legs
curled into your bare body
bringing the needful warmth?

-

Letter to my grandfather

-

Tonight I planned
to write something I mean.
Something which bothers me,
more than these words.

Tonight I planned
to scribble
about the hatred
I give to myself.
How I sabotage,
and bring a death
to my self,
everyday.

Yet, I
can't write.
For when you bleed
you can't guide a knife
to skim through your nerves,
and scream,

I hate myself.

-

A midnight foreplay
of wine and words,
seems seductive.

Your whispers
trickling down
my pinna,
would moist
my neck.

Yet your
warmth would ripple
shivers across my
bare bones.

-

कवितायें थी
या शब्दों के
खुबसूरत भवर,
एक कवि ऐसे भी।

राह चली जिसने,
राहें बनायीं जिसने,
राहें दिखाई जिसने,
एक नेता ऐसे भी।

-

What does it feel
to be a black hole?

Certain existence
yet existential crises.
Everything can go through,
nothing could stay.

Dawns and dusks
juggle
Dark and dazzle.

I feel like black hole
for I know not
how to revert,
how to acknowledge,
how to return.

But, I receive
all.

-

His teeth
and his lips
and his tongue,
encircled
the darks
of my nips.

Inside my shirt
and in a lift
headed to
twenty fourth floor.

-

Visiting oncologist twice a week,
recurrent MRIs, PETs, biopsies,
horrifying cries post chemotherapy,
pain stricken sounds for help to move,
hours being taken to walk an inch,
inabilities to swallow even a drop of water.

Cancer isn't just a disease.

-

Under the crimson quilt
his hand rolled
all over my thighs
and rested on the 'tip'.
With his index
he rubbed the lips
smoothly.

While his another hand
stealthily poked
the 'tip' of my curves.

-