anger

the only thing that really hurts are
your brilliant blue flashing eyes.

seek and you shall be found

"if you look into the abyss for long enough,
the abyss will look back at you."

what you are searching for
is searching for you as well.

no wonder you cannot find each other.

one of you has to stand still.

193 kms

the leaves are yellow now. they have told their stories. they will leave us now and they will take our stories with them. and then the cold will come to visit. the cold that wants to take you in its arms and hug you and caress you and leave you feeling..... cold. the wind shall come also to tell us more stories. the wind has always lots to say. but this time, it shall listen to me as well. because i shall talk about summer.

i shall talk about the warmth. the heat of your touch in the dark. the warmth of your kisses and the fervor of your body as it approaches mine. yes, i shall talk about the heat. the heat of your breath on my neck as you feel me deep inside. and i shall tell him about the fire of your silence as you close your eyes.

yes, the cold is curious about the warmth of summer. how will the cold snow ever know about the kind of heat that makes you sweat.... or about the heat that leaves you gasping for air......... and despite that, leave you wanting for more....?

-from Jerry Maguire,

"what do you want... my soul or something?!"

"why not?"

it is at moments when you reject me,
that i love you most.

black and white and grey

i walk around all day in the cold, with only the love of a man to keep me warm inside. i walk around all day in the cold, with only the thought of his kisses to keep me smiling. i walk around all day in the cold, with only the memory of his hands to keep me company.

i would be, without you,
as the earth, without its sun.

"being scared is a good thing. it means you have something to lose."

yes, i am afraid.
aren't you?

so, if you have a new toy,
does it mean i have to get a new hobby?

yes, i write so that i can be commented upon.

just like you wake up and want to be seen.
not looked at.

so, don't just pass me by.
go ahead, make a comment.

i dare you.

bbwhhhahahha !!

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.