Every sound diluted

inundates my heart in a kaleidoscopic

flow of emotions, mesmerized

I feel your voice deeply rooted,

inside, quakes of pleasure crumbles

these walls, and I memorized

every intonation on my skin-

Would you touch and replay

these memories?

Your hands to follow the sounds

grooved on my surface,

to make me spin

into your passion, a disarray

of emotions dancing

to a tune you play so well-


“In search of that beat that my heart skipped when I first saw your beautiful soul…”

― Evy Michaels






Whispering your name

on butterflies wings my thoughts fly

through a dusty window-

And what is it you became

since that first word kissed by your hands

found its way to this weary heart?

I dream of you

my precious unfulfilled wish,

pendent desires looking for a home

in faraway lands

where your smile feeds my streams

of loose emotions-

Will you think of me tonight?

Concealed dreams

finding a way to your pillow

with restless hands

fantasizing a touch to ignite

on your skin small implosions,

while your lips quietly tremble

whispering my name-


“I spin worlds where we could be together. I dream you. For me, imagination and desire are very close.”

― Jeanette Winterson

Frost and Fire


Frost and Fire


And then I wonder

how it is possible you are like snow

but burn much hotter

than what I’m made

of sand and sun,

to adore the flakes of winter storms

and radiate light that shifts and forms

my salty dreams

of pale white skin-

And how you hold a winter heart

that doesn’t melt with all the heat

burning within,

and then I wonder,

if we are extremes

and our lives so far apart

why do I seek a northern star

to shine on me the brightest light,

and crave your lips of crimson red

to burn a path where winter meets

my summer wants across my bed-


“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”

― John Steinbeck

A Pause


A Pause


You are a pause between each breath,

 a pulsing life inside my lungs

that flies around before I exhale

and all of you becomes impaled

in every cell and nerve that strive-

For just two seconds I hold you in

and whatever is that stays behind

it sooth my soul,

it feeds my mind,

and lights the fires deep within-


“It is not that you fall in love with a beautiful person; the process is just the opposite. When you fall in love with some person, the person looks beautiful. It is love that brings the idea of beauty in, not vice versa.”

― Osho, Intelligence: The Creative Response to Now





There is a spell I cannot break

or want to-

Unraveling thoughts weaved

in the fabric of who I am,

an idea transformed into an image

of who you are outside

while I hold my own

of how I see you inside.

There are no answers known

to explain this magical link

of longing across your ‘verse,

this aching feeling so closely tied

to the words and the ink

of your inspiration-

And how it will break

this passing yearn to be deified

by your mind and heart?

You are but a ship sailing away

while I’ll remain stuck

by the waves on this shore,

alone to dream and quietly adore

every moment and gesture,

every word that permeates

all my longing

with a spell I won’t break-


“I will show you a love potion without drug or herb, or any witch’s spell; if you wish to be loved, love.”

― Charles Lindberg

Haciendo Lazos


Haciendo Lazos


Me voy a aguantar la calma

y espero, y espero

porque si me desespero

se me revientan las ganas

de amanecerme en tu cuerpo

con mis brazos enlazados

entre tus piernas revuelto

haciendo lazos del tiempo.


And to wait in desperation

I’ll implode with all my wants

to wake up

entre tus piernas revuelto

for your legs will trap desires


haciendo lazos del tiempo


“Pero cae la hora de la venganza, y te amo.

Cuerpo de piel, de musgo, de leche ávida y firme.

Ah los vasos del pecho! Ah los ojos de ausencia!

Ah las rosas del pubis! Ah tu voz lenta y triste!”

“But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.

Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.

Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!

Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad!”

― Pablo Neruda

Lost Garden


Lost Garden


I still see you sometimes

wandering lost through my garden

gently touching the flowers found

among overgrown weeds.

With tender hands you pull the vines

to expose the beautiful petals

hidden undergrowth,

giving them light in  a profound

gesture of love,

spreading seeds

to continue the cycle of life.

I silently watch you from afar

trapped in your spell

following the scent in the air

diverse amid the roses.

Alone I will trace remnants of your touch

lingering in the flowers

a farewell

to dreams overgrown

in my deserted garden-


“Happiness will bloom

With fragrance and beauty

If you plant the seeds of love

With a deep driving desire

in the garden of hope

And nurture with tenderness,

Compassion, and care;

If you are always eager to share.”

― Debasish Mridha