Tell me when you need me

Tell me when you need me
for i'll walk a mile or two
to retain your trembling hands,
sweaty and dreadful.

Tell me when you need me
for i'll give you a look of impudence,
reflect your modesty through my eyes
carefully segregating the truths and the lies.

Tell me when you need me
for i'll catch you from falling
to levels of obscenity and self harm,
pick you up dusted and alarmed.

Tell me when you need me
for i'll bestow you with all my love
kiss you naked
let you explore.

But don't tell me when you love me
for vulnerability it breeds
time and again
tell me when you need me. 

Blank page

Two cups of hot coffee could not help him put his words down,
words were his power
but he lacked them just now.
Pen gifted by her still accurately placed on the blank page
he stared at it
as if it were giving him hints
then shifted his vision outside the window
gazing at her.
Something inspired him
pen finally in his hand,
he ended his poetic traverse by writing his initials at the end of the page.
He gifted her eternity, a blank page
words could not define his love for her. 

Closure

Closure!
she did that to defend herself
for the world betrayed her,
in the presence of her very conscience
the veracity was sheathed with parallel fiction,
innocence was deceived
facts were altered.
She hated her knowledge for truth
escapism was the only route.
Those presumptuous truths made her vice
enclosed within her was matter
but all together she shunned away the truths and the lies.
Her vision was obscured
closure it was of her conscience.

They are just breasts

" They are just breasts" he said with a smirk, running his insolent fingers through his hair. " Meant to be attained and felt" he added with conscience.
The level of disgust and offence filled vexation in my eyes.

" Oh! they are just breasts that define and mark my femininity, uplift my morals and reverence at one point of time and then degraded and deduced to a level of aversion and loath by men like you. They are just objects of voluptuousness, sensualism , maybe luscious to some- but oh! they are just breasts and it's a pity you don't have any for the kind of swindled courtesy they possess is quite overwhelming. They are just breasts that breed lust, virility- a licentious craving; blamed are they for the arousal of the noble and blamed are they for the arousal of the unknown. Faulty and blemished, they are worthy of censure and condemnation for a subject of ecclesiastical conclusions they have been, no denying. But they are just upholding and sustaining perverted opprobrium. Sad, they are just breasts, so desired yet abused. Deceived of love they are grounded in fact. Alas! they are reckoned as " Just breasts". 

The coffee mug

The emptiness of the house echoed silence of many years,

the windows did their part

hope they captured

but demonic existence it had

an omen of the past.

Dust or dark, the house never shivered

and neither did the coffee mug

perfect shape of lips

red imprinted

raw than ever

like an untouched work of art.

Motionless it stood since the death of the house,

the half filled coffee mug just beside the couch.

Melodious verse of death

Have you ever heard those sweet sounds of the winds?
those that the winds carry solicitous?
The swirls and whirls from the east
or maybe the west.
The humming sounds
cajoling the mankind to slumber
and celebrating her existence in obscurity.
A lullaby to the world
cessation of life,
it carried withe it the deeds
a compassionate concord
love and lust.
That's when the nature solemnizes
the galliard of darkness
but enough light beyond, felicity.
Never have you heard those melodious verse of death ?

Cacophony lies

The voices were never heard
and never will be,
those shrill utterances
persistent to be.
Mysterious violations of her dignity
altered and modified
simply and wholly
but that faint voice still in the background
languid and fatigued a lot
and fainter it got with each passing day
can you hear that, Nay?
for those truthful sounds never really faded.
A vice
those voices were named cacophony lies.

Just a friend

My eyes betrayed me
and from the corner of it
a tear shamelessly fell in desperation.
"Love does that to people" he said, smiling.
And who was he ?
Oh! " just a friend".

Red

She grew up only to see that color
red was now her companion.
It followed her, drained her
but gave meaning to her existence.
At 12 she experienced blood gliding down
from the mean of her legs, red.
Scared, amazed, exited
At 18 she cuts her hand
heartbroken, blood, red.
At 23 she gets married
the color binds her now, red.
Red was no more her favorite color
it took away her innocence,
it took away her freedom.
Red was a restriction.