Those parts you said belonged to me

I never did reclaim, your gift a fragile

thing we made of clouds and wicked wants

remains forever stuck in rhymes-

Maybe we live somewhere out there

between the seasons of forever

where we transformed diverging lives

into one merged in space and time

and I exist with you as mine-

Will you forgive me?

I tempted fate, enticed your longing

for burning skin of sun and sands

while I got lost between your hands

under the lace of dreamy nights-

Will you remember?

I’ll ask again, will you remember

how with my words I made you sin?

Without regrets or without shame

and how at night you touched your skin

while softly calling me by name.

Then tell me love, should I reclaim

those parts you said belonged to me?


July 2018

“There’s warm skin. A strong body that embraces you. Breaths that escape his gasping mouth. But… we’re calling out another’s name in our hearts. With our eyes closed, that person’s image surfaces in our minds. It was a sweet, gentle, yet cruel night.”

― Yuuri Eda


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 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

Paper Dreams


Paper Dreams


What is left, dreams exhausted

in pursuit of a moment, and another,

rushing desires across a shape

I define so well.

You watch me every night,

my eternal lover,

how my restlessness play

on my lonely pillow, but you stay

forever in the words I write,

gone before my time

in your smile I dwell,

spilled dreams drawn

on an empty bed

where I make you mine-


“Can I be blamed for wanting a real body, to put my arms around? Without it I too am disembodied. I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings…but there’s something dead about it, something deserted.”

― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s

Of Passion


Of Passion


Your passion, across my skin deluged

my nights alone, so close it was

under my sheets it dripped

and dripped desires, a certain way

your words would taunt and ripped

apart my meager dreams

of what if love somehow be there-

Your passion, it kept me alive

when far away your eager hands

your body touched and I deprived

with only a taste inside my mind-

Your passion fed my fiery wants

to make you mine,

to breathe you in like precious air-


“‎And yet I have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire.”

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities





I saw my reflection, confused

I recognized me in your eyes

and my smile on your lips, strange

how it flooded my muse

while my blood rushed your veins

and my heartbeats your heart

resonated in reprise-

And your words like Spring rains

soaked my dreams from the start

as you molded my longing

and I breathe all your wants-


“When I draw I don’t capture your likeness. I capture your soul.”

― Anthony T. Hincks






in the trillion cells across your body

you define and forge what I am,

in your thoughts, in your heart

like a ghost taking shape-

And how do I define you

my gone dreams butterfly,

spreading wings far

for you cannot be a cocoon again

once you learned to fly.

You are a voice, a gate

to all the wishes that men

quietly throw to the wind,

you are the words

I wished to scribbled within

to keep locked inside

warming my coldest winter-

You are mine,

alone I can hold you forever

in my skin, where you hide

to become but a dream,

only I can define-


“I heard the breeze whisper your name to the trees. And the flowers giggled smiling at the leaves. I and my loneliness keep talking about you.”

― Avijeet Das