under the moon
on the lake side
in the jeep
lies the spare tire
so panic
really strike

but under the canopy
on that very spot –
i discover bits and baubles
extra skin and tufts and knobs
i discover reminisces
i never knew
and as i explore
traverse through this newness
i discover like an aaha moment
a breastbone
as addressed in the lexicon
rather a clavicle
some place else..

aah but now you understand
what I drive at
the perfect chiselled
mark of you..


they asked me about a vagabond
they asked me to write
how did they know
i suited both roles
as apt as sunlight at day

my eyes rove
and tread
passages and spaces
people and places
once whom i called
my very own

my fingers touch
trees and mail boxes
identifying the similar
eliminating the difference
i once stopped and captured
little images of you
to carry with me
this gravel
i called home

my feet mark territories
i despise shifting
from one space to the next
i have to shed layers
each time every time
like a snake through metamorphosis
i despise change
it makes me lose my bearings..
yet i never remain,
constant –
in stasis..

tiny obsessions

brewing you
like ambrosia..
the single most
activity i look forward to..
i love the waft of your beans
being roasted and ground,
love the feel of your grounds
seeping through my skin,
it captivates me still –
how the sight of you
sends my face into a spiralling smile,
how the existence of you –
gushing down my cup
sets my heart free,
of its demons and clutches
just to be whole
just to be me..
coffee –
you define so very many parts
of the person i call me..


i skipped continents
traversed the globe away from u
yet u remained
like an incessant bug
in the deep recesses
of my mind,
my heart..
i cannot escape
the hold i let you have over me
that would mean
giving up
the entire pretext of you
and i do believe
your reflection
your thought
that pretext
may well worth be
more valuable than you..
in the bare minimum –
it’d never ever
lemme go..


i was once winged
no ties no tags
no loose ends
rather free

now tied and tagged
i’m obsessed
i’d rather be free
but i’m fried and weak

i’m quite obsessed
as if entranced
i’m close to weak – yet
i can taste moksh

i’m in a trance
like an acid high
but i wanna have moksh
leave your memory – high and dry


like worn enamel
scrubbed down
by your toothbrush

like rejects
haute couture brands

like wilted iceberg
organic produce

you leave me in shambles
every time i breathe
you leave me devoid
every time i breathe


too much has been said.. enough hasn’t been said.. two different theories swirling in my head of what was what ifs what could’ve been.. i analyse every fragment every segment every nuance to such tiny infinitesimal detail that the subject remains foggy to me.. i am now beginning to forget the subtle art of being you and the feel of your touch.. if only i could let the memory last as alive as it was yesterday or even the day before.. where every pore on my skin breathed your name and would stand up in attendance the minute you laid a fingertip anywhere on me..

your addiction
akin to
substance abuse

rude awakening

walking alone to the bar
you thought I wouldn’t know
you thought almost most things
could slip past by me
but I had your heart
i knew it before you’d make sense
of its unrest

you’d send a video
you’d send an audio sample
you’d send a selfie
you’d send a text
you’d wonder why I thought
your fone was more of my lover
than it ever was ur friend

misty sigh goodbye

you don’t make it easy
your diaries don’t compensate
for the silence you bestow
our story ended
droplets could soak us in
the third time in a row
as it should’ve been
as it could’ve been
cos isn’t that where we started love
under the cloak of your van
in the wisp of the mist
in your black shirt
with open windows..

b4 darkness

you came to me


at nightfall

you came to me


at nightfall

you came to me


at nightfall

you came to me


at nightfall


why didn’t I ever get you –

before darkness?