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


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





I will hide your love

like a buried treasure

deep in the sand

by the lonely shore

where I waited once-

I will keep it safe

closer to the waves

and I’ll draw a map

scribbled on my heart

so I won’t forget

how it was before,

I will hide your love

by the lonely shore-


“What we spend, we lose. What we keep will be left for others. What we give away will be ours forever.” ― David McGee





You flourish,

petals open softly at night

welcoming desires I scribble under eyelids

heavily dragging  dreams close to midnight-

And I hold on to whatever is that incite

my mind to shape these mirrors reflecting

the amazing you I crave to know,

discovering the intricacies infecting

my cells with this longing

that suffocates in my bed-

Would you dream of me this once?

Allow me to find shelter for my wants

in those places you set apart

for those who touched your soul

while I sift through words

to find you, belonging

within the walls of my heart-


“The heart has its reasons which reason knows not.”

― Blaise Pascal