the ghost of you lingers on my lips
the echo of your touch on the curve of my waist
I remember every shaking breath,
every sweet nothing you whispered between my thighs...
with every kiss I could taste little bits of me mixed with little bits of you mixed with the liquor you had been drinking that night
and I remember thinking that I liked the way you tasted.
then you took my hand and held it and I could see a spark in your eye that hinted of mischief and carnal desire.
and so you traced every curve of my body with your tongue
and then you painted my chest and my neck with marks that screamed, "she's mine," even if it was only for a fleeting moment.
and then the night grew old and the sun began to rise and I found myself stumbling out your door, newly addicted to the way you had made me feel.

I'm the cold hard ground
But she is the gentle rain
That makes flowers grow

Deep down inside me
There's a yearning undefined
A role not yet served

Memories of you
Cannot fill these empty arms
Pride can't keep me warm

We had an energetic exchange
and his energy has intertwined with my own
and his children have sunken into my skin
and his lips are imprinted on my own.
I feel as if I have to discard myself in order to discard him
from me.
We made art with our bodies
and I can't tell you how artistic it was that he curves gently to the left
and his hands felt as if they were made only to grab my throat.
I loved every inch of his body
and I have it memorized so well
I could sketch it out.
He was art to me.
In every kiss was a song;
in every goodbye, a melancholy tear.
At night, I can remember the way his chaliced hands traced my figure
and how comforted I felt when his muscular arms hugged my limbs.
I can still taste him
and it's a taste that even Burnett's can rid me of.
He was mine;
every piece and square centimeter had my name on it,
but just as quickly as we fell in love,
my name was wiped clean by
someone
else.

Just tips of icebergs
In the hazy mist
Could seem as though
They were harmless
But we all knew,
Deep in our hearts,
There was more to it.
Because when seasons change
And our hearts turn sour
There's always reason for pain
Always an exposed nail in the board
To take all of the blame.
Because our eyes deceive us
And we believe others can change
But there's a reason why
We cringe and shake our heads
When we hear their names.
Because we're only human
And though we wish they weren't,
Things will always be difficult
And we'll always have icebergs.

With each passing glance
We're all looking for someone
Behind strangers eyes

I was lying on a highway,
Next to crashed cars,
With blood trickling down my face.
I was with my best friend;
She was so adamant on buying that dress.
That blue dress we had seen a week ago,
Through the window of a closed store.
Now, she was in the car
With airbags against her body
She was alive, thankfully;
But with a broken arm.
As now the situation was contained
With no unusual movement around us,
We walked to the hospital nearby
And were given first aid.
Unclear about what had happened
Until the news channel spoke about the meteor.
The car crash was at the edge of the crater.
After dropping her to her place,
I got back home after 2 hours.
It was 5pm and exactly then,
The country was under attack;
It was a war.
The enemies were attacking from all sides,
And Oh God! From us they were not far!
As we hurried to leave the place,
From the window, I saw a man loading a grenade.
I was white as I shouted for my Mom,
In reply I heard, "It's nothing".
"But Mom, you have not seen what's happening here, we have to run!"
"Yes dear, we have to hurry, after all it is 5.30".
Now the man was aiming the grenade at us.
"5.30?! Mom we have to run, we all are going to die!"
"Not we, but only you!"
I was surprised,
"It's 5.30, for God's sake, wake up!
Or you'll again miss the first hour of the day!"
*And all this while,
I thought I was surviving an apocalypse.

Once i knew a girl who would smile about the smallest things
Now she frowns and looks away
Thinking to herself "i have to much to do today"
For shes not alive in the city she loves
And shes torn between what her heart wants
And what her brain tells her

I wondered into garden of blossomed blue flowers today,
morning glory and forget me not,
sprinkled with dew and swaying always so slight,
tethered but not, bowing but not.
Soft as the shy maiden within' a dream,
levitated blue bell with faces within a face,
always so grounded but eye on sight for heavens,
dreaming of tumbleweeds but rooted to her spot.
The rain from last night has taken away her strength,
but she knows her best to make the raindrops shine,
stubborn to keep her place in mid air,
she still glides and dances amidst her faith's plot.
Never so lavished as reds and pinks of roses,
never so dark but never so soft,
never so layered, just holding few petals to her sleeves,
ever refusing to let them.. ever leave her heart.
There she sits, my bluebell, on the mercy of changing winds,
there she hangs in balance, between fragility and strength,
there she is again, nudging me on while I stayed,
inviting me to admire her but asking not be plucked.