we met in a bar —
by accident —
i was with a friend.
we matched on tinder
a while ago.
yet, word by word,
you quoted my bio
back to me.
as if you didn’t care.
so casually.

we talked bad dates,
cats, the types we were into,
living sitch in oxford,
housemate gossip,
then silently judged some people.

my friend left, eventually.
we decided to head home.
you were parked at the station,
and i lived off botley road.

you didn’t mind the company.
i didn’t know you.
but i knew of you.
barely.
a friend of a friend.

then i found myself accepting
the lift you offered.

we were almost by my house
when you asked about my plans.

maybe i’d finish
a half-drunk bottle, i said,
with nothing else in mind.

you glanced over,
said you had one at home
you were dying to open.
extremely cheap.
probably vile.
saved for special occasions,
and improvised nights.

the spark was effortless.
as we got to my driveway,
you turned us around.

the ridiculous treasure
you had saved
was worse than we feared,
yet we drank it
until we forgot the taste.

the selfies you made us take
were the silliest kind:
posing with fake glasses,
bandanas,
and that cursed, stick-on moustache.

yours (bandana, not moustache),
wrapped around my neck,
pulled me close.
then you kissed me.

it caught me off guard —
the difference.
you didn’t need me to stay.
i didn’t hear you beg.
with the bottle between us,
we settled in your bed,
discussed programming,
reflection,
the act of meditation —
such an unexpected night to have.

as you drove me home,
you put cheesy pop songs on,
belting out taylor swift.
i noticed the comic strips
glued on the interior —
it was harley quinn.

i still remember all of it.

mostly the goodbye kiss
you carefully asked for
as i opened the door.
and the way our lips brushed
was almost like a dream,
because it was the first time
a kiss,
exchanged with a stranger,
didn’t feel cheap.

we weren’t really strangers
by the end of the night.

(at least not as much
as we currently are.)

i was warned
i'd fall for you.
stay away from him,
they said.
sweetie, he’s bad news.

i laughed it off,
thinking i knew better,
thinking, that this time
would be different.

i always loved a challenge.

three months it took
for my mind
to catch up
with my heart.
by then,
you’d already
moved on.

My dear,
              you’re a lime. I’m a cherry.
My dear,
             & I like your chest hairy…
My dear,
           I’ve got sand in my throat…
My dear,
         Would you take this poem home?
My dear,
          Your tan skin and warm eyes….
                          
      (He’s mine, and I think I’m gonna die)

My dear,
            I’ve got years left to grow….

Oh dear,
            I think I got your email wrong.

                Subject: Please disregard!

तू दिसतेस मला एका फुलासारखी,
वेगवेगळ्या रंगांनी बहरलेली
तू दिसतेस मला एका ताऱ्यासारखी,
दूर आकाशात टीमटीमणारी

प्रेम आहे माझे तुझ्यावर,
तुला माहीत नाही
तू आणि फक्त तूच दिसतेस,
इतर काहीच दिसत नाही

एक दिवस विचारेन तुला —
"माझ्याशी लग्न करशील का?"
तेव्हा तू म्हणू नकोस की,
"माझ्या आयुष्यातून निघून जा"

नाही जगू शकणार तुझ्याशिवाय,
जाईन मी मरून
पण आठवणी मात्र राहतील तुझ्या,
मनात घर करून

तू सुखी राहावीस,
हीच असेल माझी शेवटची इच्छा
तुझ्या सुखी जीवनाला,
माझ्याकडून शुभेच्छा

I slip down the looping slopes of your curly hair.
Just when I think I'll stop,
the curve of your scented mane flips me upside down.

I shout with happiness, like a child in an amusent park.

I walk, I roam, I run-
I travel through every path of your soft, black hair.

And when the ride ends, I'm already crazy to slip again.

Feeling the warmth, feeling the cold
people come, some people go
and my mind is always wondering
how long you are going to stay

Among the sandals and tambourines
the firefly diamonds and
the sudden silence, the big vendetta
and the scene stealing corpse

Night falls, sleep comes, sand
bugs bite my ankles and I still
hope to see your sunburned face when
I open my bonfire encrusted eyes