About Her Fire


About her fire


I miss the heat from her fire-

How it burned unrestrained in a heart

much inflamed by her love, oh how I miss

when her touch left a mark

on my skin which forever remains

and it rushed through my veins

reaching deep in my flesh-

And how I wish I could find

in the ashes that love left behind

if not flames from the fire

then forever her spark-


“Love, like fire, goes out without fuel.”

― Mikhail Lermontov


Of fading dreams


 Of fading dreams


My desires fly away,

uncontained they flap their wings

and leave me slowly day by day,

my daily bread of love and words

to dissipate among life strings,

my passion stale,

my dreams on hold become too frail

to breathe new life.

And time again will leave behind

the love I crave,

a wish undone

above the clouds evaporates.


“When eyes have died in its gaze, know the heart had died in its blaze.”

― Anthony Liccione

Of what we need


Of what we need


Deprived of a touch desires languish,

my love desolated in a drought of emotions

slowly wither, a lone flower in a neglected garden-

And what is it that I miss?

This life filled with opposing notions

always seeking a soul matched in heavens

lost along the way, my will hardened

into a shell of finality, a dry river

flowing into a sea of desperation-

I lost my way,

somewhere between my first cry

and her last kiss,

a broken piece left behind in the sway

of waves caressing my body

while I’ll dream of her,

somewhere between her last goodbye

and my last breath-


“No, I don’t miss you… Not in a way that one is missed.

But I think of you.


In the way that one might think of the summer sunshine

On a winter night…”

― Sreesha Divakaran,

What’s Left Behind


What’s Left Behind


Your body a river

flowing smoothly through my mind,

on sleepless nights in the heat

of summer, evaporating streams

of wants I trace your shape in dreams

weaved in desires I can’t define

once awake-

And how do I keep you inside?

Once gone an empty space

retains the imprint

of far lost kisses, your gentle face

to haunt my days,

the empty space my nights-


“I felt her absence. it was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. you wouldn’t need to run to the mirror to know they were gone”

― James Dashner, The Scorch Trials

Of a Touch


Of a Touch


I followed the motion of her hand

pushing gold strands of hair

carelessly flying around the neck,

my lungs pleading for air

when I forget to breathe, a minute

lost in the magic of a smile-

Oh how I am weak to understand

how she causes a spin

in my world, for a while

I am lost in her spell

waking visions of kisses

and touches, and love…

Sometimes, I could follow her hand

crafting wants buried deep

with no words to dispel

what I feel, what I wish I could touch

like her hand touched a part

of my soul,

and I wish I could reach and somehow

touch a place in her heart-


“See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.

O, that I were a glove upon that hand

That I might touch that cheek!”

― William Shakespeare

Of sleepless nights


Of sleepless nights


You shared my bed, but what a stranger

to my ink on empty spaces

of what is left but scattered traces

of hidden kisses and fleeting love-

And death is same as to forget

my heart still beats

when does not skip for anyone,

is it the same to be alive?

If maybe then just to survive

I’ll sip my wine on sleepless nights

then walk around on empty streets

in search of you my dearest one-


“sometimes i don’t know, which moment

which cool gust of wind will come,

and enchant me

tousling my hair

and my heart,

stirring…that familiar ache of poetry,

which drop will kiss

the old wrench in my soul

reminding me, all over again

i miss you better in the rain.”


― Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos

Of Love Remains


Of Love Remains


Her substance lasted-

Somewhere inside

she shaped my being

and left a trace that most times hide

but burns at night in lucid dreams

of mangrove trees and salty waves

where in a niche from prying eyes

our legs entwined

in calming seas and became slaves

of fiery kisses and heated thighs-

She left a something under my skin,

a restless need to be again

inside her flesh, to be define

by sun and sand, somewhere within

she still remains in time defied

after her bones are bared and dry

and nothing left, she still remains

somewhere inside-



 “Desire is the kind of thing that

eats you


leaves you starving.”

― Nayyirah Waheed