I sometimes hear outsiders call Mumbaikers, mechanical. Could that be true? I think we awaken every morning, bright with the colour of our individuality. Then the city crystalizes us into a reverse prism, bringing out only the most necessary aspects of our being and spits us out, still filtered and…
Tattoo your inner demonsall over my bodyLay your glance next to my heartTouch my soul *Read my other Love Poetry. Or listen to it.
Listen to me put you down.Beg me to make you beg for more.Then call me a bitch for stomping all over your heart. You always get your way.
My affection, it grew like a treeReaching out words like branchesChopped & sanded till you swept up the scrapsWith a broom of the twigs that fell off. *Read my other Love Poetry. Or listen to it.
So many lovers. So many lessons.
Memories. His,thunder through her mindjust like his footstepswhen she was asleep. Hers,splash onto his eyes,making them water.
The past is a drunk ex-husband.
The future is a mysterious, smiling stranger.
Dance, dance with meSwing me out of secretsReel me into your criesSpin me over conversationsTo meet under shared laughter Dance with me.
Let us be playersLet us be opponentsLet us be partners-in a dance, in a game Let us be loversLet us be othersLet us be close, only in name Let us be foesLet us be strangersLet us be okay with all things not being the same Let us be all theseLet…
Fascination – a poem.