He is like the predator,
and you, the doe - but a doe
willing to be chased.

-

The bloodshot eyes.
The dry lips. The goosebumps.
The pleasure. The craving.
The cataclysm of emotions
now invading the senses.
Tongues gliding over parched lips.
Fingers getting entangled in hair,
pulling slightly at the roots.
Him and her, now connected.
He has marked her, claimed her.
The wall mirrors intertwined
silhouettes confined in freedom
and free in confinement.
There is no return.
There is no escape.

-

And, oh love !
It gave me goosebumps,
whenever he laid his hands.

-

I do not seek love.
I desire no attachments.

I will warm you up, like that sunny ball of fire.
One... that'll melt it's way, right to your very inwards.

In all the flush and heat of the moment then,
you'll break. Break bad and break mad.

Then?
Then, I'll calm you, like the moon cools down
the waves, and their tidings fall mute.

As the fire dissipates,
it'll be stars exploding in and
without, but all you'll know
is foam.

-

the braille your eyes never did.
Flip through, feel thoroughly.

Make out what they mean;
lend me better meanings.
Water me with your love,
I'll be drenched and I'll be dry.
Forget the crumples, just read
me everyday and completely.

You can never fall in your
own eyes; that's the beauty
of the blind.

-

Your own body betraying you,
feeling aching pleasures in
places that shouldn't.

-

The Beauty of a Sudden Death.

And if we sink one's teeth into
each other, the pain is sweet.
And if we drown in a brief and terrible
simultaneous absorption of breath,
that sudden death is beautifully beguiling.
There's just one saliva of twain tongues
and just one taste of ripe fruit.
And against me I feel you tremble,
shiver away into blurry ripples,
like a moon in the water.

Is my touch so numb ?
Is my tangibility never supposed
to pierce through to the other side,
where I can actually touch
the moon in the water ?

-

Just like a bee,
your variegated apparel falls
luxuriously against your skin,
cradling your velvet curves and
admiring your bust of a body
in an opulent silhouette.

Is that fabric, the only thing
that segregates me from you,
or every desire I want to resist?
My eye-fucking sight becomes
evident as my irises darken
with salacity.

Where given a portrait,
but not to touch.
Where given a mouth,
but not to kiss.

-şhreyarathi

-

men like you ..

-

I loved that smell,
captioned ..

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