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


Love Dance


Love Dance


In a dance of colors a feathery display

in this a game of attraction,

words seeking a favorable reaction

to a glimpse of possibilities-

And what I seek but a loving woman

to fill my nights with passion,

 if not love then a warm body,

to carelessly fall

 into my heated arms

for a thousand and one nights

of seductive schemes-

I want to get lost in the charms

of a beautiful woman,

for this dance I will play

all my favorite games

with the brightest colors of all,

hoping love would somehow

find its way to my dreams-


I wondered what happened when you offered yourself to someone, and they opened you, only to discover you were not the gift they expected and they had to smile and nod and say thank you all the same.”

― Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper





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

Of Spells and Dreams


Of Spells and Dreams


You cradle me between legs gently

on milky skin a contrast shade

of passion penned in winter schemes,

your pelvic heat radiating wants

with urges flowing in a cascade

of loose desires-

I give you words,

you give me dreams-

I give you love,

you give me words,

but words like chants

bewitch my dreams,

if with a spell I could persuade

under my wings

for you to stay…

Would you let go and just be mine

and not confine

yourself to dreams?


“She was fascinated with words. To her, words were things of beauty, each like a magical powder or potion that could be combined with other words to create powerful spells”

– Dean Koontz –

In Passing


In Passing


Do not fade

into the what could have been,

seeds wilted in the stagnation of a drought

after the passing storm, my skin

knowing your touch so well, without,

a deserted vastness of this empty space.

Do not forget

a soul feeds from attention

when hungrily seeking redemption

from sins of flesh, mea culpa,

in blindness seeking to say

how I needed you

delicately wrapped in lace

under sheets sustaining desires.

Do not go alone

into the unknowns of time,

when love so little requires

and a flicker of light

will burn bright

into the dark tomorrows.

Could you imagine me as yours?

I wonder how you see me inside

your guarded thoughts,

a touch you kindly hide

while in dreams alone

will always see you as mine-


“The things you let go will someday teach you how to fly.”

― Jenim Dibie






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 tried capturing the essence of who you are

your passion and your longing

trashing wildly in my loving hands

not enough to hold you, belonging

to another one that held you for so long-

And free you became in a wild flutter

of wishes waking up underneath

your hidden wants,

but life is so that when we find

where we belong,

where all the wishes underneath

the constant longing

will go to rest,

it is too late for time does pass

too fast to wait, too quick to hold,

that essence of who you are,

where I belong-


“I don’t even remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere.”

― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower