Month: July 2017

Sated lust

  Taut muscles, beads of sweat, eyes clenched shut, It's hardwork not to halt. Though, a minute is barely past.   Tightly, she holds on to you. She would not let go. For it is not time yet. It's her way. It's her style. It's what you lusted for.   You body tells you, You … Continue reading Sated lust

The making of a pest

    Hot, sweet and creamy, On the train to the bakery, I sip my coffee. Fresh, petite and cute, She was so pretty in blue, Cupid's arrow flew. Alas! Dear reader, Just one was Cupid's victim. She was unaware. Love unrequited, Was my fate until the end. "A pest" I was called.  

Dear little brother

  Balls and dolls Laughter and fights We were born one after the other Headstrong you were Gentle I was Yet, we moved the earth together Muses and Eros took me miles away But you were with me And I with you Moreso on this day when you will be wed I stand right next … Continue reading Dear little brother

The power of the quill

  Thoughts once befuddled, Words once scrambled, Flow out of his mind. A letter at a time. His quill, his medium, Bleeds to release them. To give them peace on paper. Troubled no longer, They will sway minds. They will open gates. His thoughts, Will be his currency. His words, His passport to freedom.   … Continue reading The power of the quill

I wish

    I wish I could tell you all I wish I could convey to you how I feel. I wish I could tailor my words to suit my emotions to perfection. But, They keep fading away into thin air as soon as they form. Leaving a blank slate in their wake.       … Continue reading I wish


Mumble, bumble! They all grumble! Living in a bubble, They were not humble Nor grateful. Until, POP went the bubble,  And out they all tumbled.     Image credit: Bilder meines lebens via Daily Prompt: Bumble

Ignoring the senses

I hang on to his words.   I see not, The darkness that he brought, Nor the pink stain on his coat.   I smell not, The hate on his breath, Nor her perfume on his shirt.   I taste not, The bitterness of his kiss, Nor the blood on my lips.   I feel … Continue reading Ignoring the senses

STOP the cutting

    Tête-à-tête In the beginning, they were but whispers of ample sized women. Mother was their queen. Then, father agreed.   Sealed! Stamped! My fate is decided. To the chalk faced man we must now head! Mother told me in her gentle voice, the rites must be done to protect my loins. Yet my … Continue reading STOP the cutting