Morning tales

Sun climbs up the sky,
Darkness goes to sleep,
Amid the change in their shifts,
Calender date takes a flip.

A body wakes up from the bed,
Keeping dreams and fantasies back in a drawer of mind,
A new day is like another chance,
Leaving all disappointments and misses behind.

Hot coffee rises in the cup,
To drown in the throat,
Body hopes to reach a different place,
While getting ready to sail in the same boat.




Poetry of touch

I will drive my poetry through your curves,
a bit above your skin,
a bit beneath your nerves

the way you bend,
the way you tilt,
covering you from end to end,
letting go all the guilt.

words will feel
as i feel you
i touch you
in places and ways
no one ever has,
through my words, spaces and commas
leaving my ink,
stealing your aromas

Heart crawlers

They come out of hiding, 
appear to be abiding,
searching not, but begging for place,
place not in house, but in heart,
they are into impostering like an art,

you avoid them at start,
but end up dealing,
you look for their wounds,
wounds they have decorated,
to catch your attention,
without even a fleeting mention,
in the conversations
which involve your silences
and their stories,
your copy-paste OKs and their overdose of sorries,

you give them place,
a place in your heart,
still confused
whether as a gift of love or a loan of sympathy,

and the problem starts the moment they take it,
they try to make it something of their own,
making you forget the heartbeats you own,
they start coaxing you for more space,
you give them an inch more,
they bargain for square feets,
they nail you on your weak nerves,
even blackmail if it serves.