How women curl their palms
about a lilting flame in the wind,
around a diya lit in prayer,
into a curtain of promise kept -
is exactly how I feel her fingers
gather in sleep on my bare chest.

In a silent guard to a beating wish,
the night sky between her fingers,
that I have carried alit in my heart,
seeking a forever in her love.

-

Of all the wounds
That I have ever endured,
Your biting my lips
Between your teeth,
As I drank back the
Warm,
Red,
Trickle of passion,
Is what I would like to torture
Myself with;
Everyday.

-

I am the copper moon,
Like a beggar's dented plate,
Dangling in the outstreched arms
Of this blue night sky.

Oh Beloved! Come,
Shun me with your light.
Let me die in your
awakening today.

I swear I will take
Birth rich, another night,
With all the treasures.
To guard your sleep
With bejewelled quilts.

If only that is going
To make sleeping
Feel any better.

-

**DIWALI LIGHTS**

I have watched the Diwali lights
vanish from the balcony.
The November mist, now, a cold shroud
over the festival’s memories.
In the distant dark though,
there’s a balcony still alit;
twinkling chains drape
the balustrade in a glee.
Their reflections on the
darkened panes,
like fireflies in a merry.
And I smile --
I smile in connect
with a familiar someone within,
a soul alike me, perhaps;
still in the afterglow of a long gone Diwali
that happened to me as her love,
and I had kept vigil ever since -
never letting for once the mist
of loss settle in my heart,
that she left me an empty forever in.

-

You loved me
With a pain
Far greater
Than the longing
Of my reality.
So I rode this life
With you;
To feel death
In its most beautiful form.

-

Your smile, to me, was a gathering of peace. Like a gentle wave across your face and I drowned in it with pictures of beautiful hills, golden sunsets and vibrant rainbows in my mind.

It was not before I held you in my arms and kissed that heavy tear on the wing of your eyes, did I realize that even the most gorgeous terrains of the world have their withering days of rains and thunders.

-

If name is an identity, then sure we are born with a new one, every new life. But the fact that we take birth as humans, keeps us all the same. And all the lives, all the breathing, all of their struggles is but an unanimous way to fall back into the same old realms of love and pity, where we had wandered all our last lives, chasing that one lovely soul to die with.

-

All of us, in a way, are on the move. Sailing some kind of crazy sea in our little boats of hope. We cannot deboard, because that will be life slashing life's throat. We cannot escape the sea, for that is the face of our own choices and no matter what, we cannot go back on those choices. It is like wanting to turn the clock the other way; impossible. The best we can do is to lead those choices to their desired fate.
And the truth is that, you are my fate: that loving island beyond this tumultuous horizon of waves, I am so far away from. This moment, irrespective of who we are, is all about lending our heart into the brave choice of hoisting the sail into the wind of odds and continue. Just continue in this voyage of desires finding home.

-

In between the passing twilight of letting go and the nearing dark night of tears, I am that uncelebrated evening full of disconnected poems and aromatic beverages. Their respective music and stains in my scattered life are reminders of what we couldn't be.

-

In the cold ashes of evenings,
nights are splinters
secretly burning under the heap.
I wonder if she were my evenings --
for the undying love was
that suppressed fire within;
continuing to burn my heart for her,
night after night.

-