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Sorrow



The way you engulf me into you
by your unforeseen arms, 
arched into a narrow circle
that could cushion the depths of my soul

The way your fingers pine me 
into tears,
into love,
into loss,
into the now.

They are huge,
huge with darkness 
that could splay into spring
but they are,
just like your foe
vividly enchanting.

When you divulge into me
with stealth and no shame
creep into my covers
that shall light me to flame

When you kiss me deep 
with your lips as cold as ice
as painful as thorns
that sting into my soul
until it bleeds to foul

When you touch me 
with your fiery fingers
that burn me down to darkness
rave me into madness

You pull me toward 'what is'
and shard my castles 
into a million pieces of waste
you probe me into 
the depths of my soul

I find you 
as erotic 
as enchanting
as intense 
and as beautiful
as 'him'.

You are sorrow

Image courtesy : Internet

Comments

  1. When you kiss me deep
    with your lips as cold as ice
    as painful as thorns
    that sting into my soul
    until it bleeds to foul


    These lines are so beautiful and realistic. I loved the poem, such a beautiful one! <3

    ReplyDelete

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If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3


It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

Being humane

Every dawn dooms with wail


I never opine but in my daze,

For I am human, humane.

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To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…