“that I am somebody
worthy of those velvet stares…”
You’re a whole new universe discovered, This life’s greatest detour, Up to the climax in bed, where you cripple in pain and pleasure. Until the bed springs make no sound, As you fall into deep slumber, After drowning you in kisses, After taking me higher. On my lips, I wear your name, That which echoes…
Take a shooting star, through your ever observing periphery, in between momentary hesitations are inspirations of evening air and surging sensations, pulling you away from the ordinary pages those sweet fingers are mindlessly flipping everyday. If it was not for that fraction of a second, you would not know it had a glimpse of you…
Feet tucked under the covers, lying motionless like a fallen sculpture drained of strength, but there was no ceiling in sight, I was staring blankly into a vast nothingness. The dull, continuous force in my chest was not even there to hear, there was completely nothing to sense, like a stillborn I was for a…
Call it crystal, call it blue, all you are is a beauty of a dew, that slides over the petals of a jasmine. Petal to petal you wept, from eight to dusk you danced, to the breathy whispers of its scars, to the tune of misery of its heart. But like everything else that goes,…
With lips so supple and pink, that can kiss away this monotonous innocence, I want to hear you whisper my name, while I caress your skin with the softest touch, like that to a delicate china glass.
One tiny home up a forest tree, In a quaint but familiar territory, One little pigeon with a broken wing, Hums it’s song one sad, rainy evening. Morning walks further into days, Hope burns brighter in his heart, Thrilled to take the directions of the winds, Long flights into the wilder parts. With wings so strong…
I write that which is beautiful, like those gentle stories from your lips, of hate, of love, of sadness, and bliss. I write that which is beautiful, yet dangerous and kind, I’d write it on a paper — not, but in my lifetime.
Will you take me to Venus, where all other men have been? In my bed for centuries, frustrated and wondering.
“Maybe you can afford to wait. Maybe for you there’s a tomorrow. Maybe for you there’s one thousand tomorrows, or three thousand, or ten, so much time you can bathe in it, roll around in it, let it slide like coins through your fingers. So much time you can waste it. But for some of…
Curtains fall in so a graceful manner, A milky twilight beams o’er pines and shore, Modest ripples hum a song that sobers, Mind that seeks shelter from a day’s remorse. Galaxy of lights trickles on faces, Contemplating souls are showered with flame, Knee-bending heaven on every cheek it kisses, To ease the heart for its…
The Midnight Poet 