Thursday, July 26, 2007


The birds laid an egg one afternoon. The following morning it multiplied to two.
Two incomplete dreams on a straw bed ogle at my discomfort each day.
I hope for fruition.

A well-loved teacher taught me a lesson last evening.
In unmeasured gait, he strode like a king. I followed in hapless wonder.
Pleasure and pain. In equal measure.

I made love to the thunderstorm.
‘He fucked up his part’ …. And my love was in vain.
It lay in dirty puddles.
The rain drenched me again.

We made love later. On the rainy streets.
Under umbrellas we held hands. We spoke of Shallow Hal.
And Nini.

I dream of fruition.

Thursday, July 19, 2007


a year has passed in haste.

yet not much has changed. but everything has.
in essence we are the same. in perspective we are not.
i believe we have not compromised (since you hate that so much).
i hope we haven't.

do we love ?
yes, we do.
more than ever, now.

we still fight. we still blabber. we still cry.
we still walk. we still wonder. we still want.
we still fidget. we still rant. we still hug.
we still hate.
we still love.

one year on,
it still is you and I,
in our rainy sky.

Happy Anniversary.

Monday, July 9, 2007

The coffee stains

A sugar cube. A sweet Lump.
A sweet lump of sorrow.

She mulled over the coffee.
The bitter coffee. Unsweetened. Made inexpertly by young hands.

It could have been anything.Anger. Jealousy. Sorrow.

But it was sweet. And it melted into a brown, piece of cloth.
Stained by the coffee.
But she , unlike her, didn't rip the cloth apart.

She loves the fire. She , like him, loves to be singed.