and do you listen when he talks about dante? when he recounts tales of the years gone by? no, you don't. what you want is for him to talk about you. what you want is his time, his mind, his thoughts. his soul. you want him to talk about your lips and your eyes. you want him to caress your foot with his and stroke your breasts with his wet fingertips. you want him to sing to you. and tell you about how much he loves you.

but, no. you don't want to listen to him talk about dante and inferno.

yes, you missed the part when he caught a glimpse of you making dinner and smiled to himself. you missed that part when he took a picture of you when you were not looking.

nobody can help you if you complain about wanting a circle when you have two semi-circles.

"mera ishq bhi tu,
mera yaar bhi tu."

do you know that feeling when you don't want? don't want anything.no desire. a feeling that comes from being absolutely content. content with the moment. which in turn makes it the perfect moment? do you know it?

it is the exact opposite feeling of that you feel when you look at your fork and sigh while eating dinner alone, in an empty home, and not being able to eat because there is a hollow in your stomach that nothing can fill. yes, you know that one, don't you?

nostalgia is for those who crave the past. or sometimes, regret it. i don't want nostalgia. neither do you. yes, you know what i'm talking about. it's not about finding husbands. it's about keeping them. it's not about being here and there. it's about knowing where you are.

it's not about do-you-love-me?
it's about i-love-you.

love

in between furniture shopping for a friend,
"so, what would you like in your house, darling?"
"you."

Like the sky spreads its wings and hugs the oceans,
I take you.

...it starts with the little mark just below your neck... which leads into that wide expanse of clear, white skin, with a light speckle of dots and slits that tell untold stories... that white skin that glides smoothly when you move... and the shoulder blades that rise majestically proclaiming its strength... and the gentle rise of your spine that trembles when i touch it and the base of that spine that promises wild fantasies beyond...

yes, i know your back well.
i have seen you walk away too many times.

new shoulders to cry on

yes, John Donne knew
what love means.

When your life collides with mine

When the leaves are hanging on by that invisible thread,
before autumn takes them away;
When your home gives you that silence you long for;
When you kiss me in your sleep.