Swim Lessons

 I am floating,

I don't think I know how to.
I realize that, as I drown.
But I'm not gasping for air.

All my senses are flooded with you.

Everything else is muted,

a mere background.

My legs try in vain 

pushing my frail body to surface.

I'm drowning in you.
You are the only thing that makes no sense 

yet all the sense in my life.

A Whole Lot of Littles

A little kiss on the corner of your mouth.

A little lick on your neck.
A little caress down your chest.
A little bite on your shoulders.
You are buzzing at all my nerve endings. 

A little nibble on your ear.

A little kiss on your oh so kissable lips.
A little nuzzle on your collarbone
as I inhale you in.

I'm wearing you for perfume today. 
  A little peck on your fingertips
which slid me into paradise this morning.

Straitjacketed Conscience

A long while,
wading through sure layers of mediocrity.
Once comfortable, routine like fresh laundry.
Now wrapping its vines around my neck
tightening its grip by the second.

Sometimes I let it be.

My skin turning a shade of bruised blue.

I'm breathless now.

My bones are tired.
My skin yearns for the kaleidoscopic.

I used to set your mind on fire. 

I am a wallflower now.
Time is fluid in here and yet is passing.
My life in cinders.
Fiery embers floating down to its demise.
I'm drugged by the mundane.
Will I wake up?
Will I have the courage to let go?

Burn Us Down

Like an old photograph
scratched with age,
the memories a musty yellow now.
The edges bent out of shape.
Lies abandoned.

It was a prefect heartbreak.

Ripped right at the middle. 

Warmth ran through every vein then.

Slate cold now.

Come on now, love.
 Hold my hand.

Think of those days with me.
Walk with me through those months
rushed way too fast.
Remind me how we felt.
Even the lazy evenings when we squabbled.
The hours slipped, unknown to us.
The months, wrapped away so quickly.
A fine film of dust now,
where my heart warmed at the mere thought of you.

Musings on Your Unmade Bed

I do not understand this. I don't understand what is that you want from me. When you are with me, I'm at all sorts of high. All my senses are piqued. Your voice sweltering against my face, whispers that my cheeks are flushed bloody red. Your touch leaves tingly goosebumps all over my body. A shiver runs down my spine while I feel heat creeping up on the sides of my neck. How do you do that? I don't understand how you have this command over me.
When you leave.. why does your afterglow leave just as fast? It wasn't like that before, was it? I cannot remember. Now, all I feel is a void. I'm not sad, not yet anyway. I'm not bitter, not yet anyway. I'm not at ease, not anymore. I'm not in love, not anymore. I feel tethered. Neither here, in my world nor there in yours!

What is that you want? Did I ask you to haunt me? You say everything what I want to hear. You smile your vulnerable shy smile and I feel weak in my knees. Your gaze falls upon me like warm sunshine on bone cold winter earth. Then why is that I feel vacuum and alone when you leave? So alone that it's like a blow to my face. 

Am I your dirty little secret? Have you stowed me away in dusty cobwebbed crooks of your head? Do you talk about me to your friends? Do you get breathless when you think about how I blow your mind on quiet cloudy Sundays? 

Do I exist in your world outside your grey walls?

La Petite Mort

Let the shame wash over.

You need to feel that sometimes.

The ecstasy rolls over like waves.

Somewhere deep down
in her most darkest corner,
cells ignite into a myriad of colors.
Her toes curl, her heels arch
she bites her lower lip to stifle her slipped moan.
Shame!
That she feels none.