On the twelfth hour Felt the haze setting in That dreadful evening fog gaveway To loss of motivation Plundering on Drinking my brew Evening fog gone Now a morning haze On the twenty-second hour That dreadful evening fog left Perhaps too late

Traversing from earth to my favourite planet with rings I got stuck or pulled by a planet in between I know not what Begging to let me loose back to earth as it knew the only earth. Copyright © Snigdha

A wave of Melancholia washed over me, drenching all my thoughts . It was the quiet sorrow  that destroyed me from within, tears trickle down. Zoned out His voice takes me to a place  full of tragedy and its beauty. It compels me to pick…

I love the way you reached for me before fully awake strong arms masking musky morning breath kissing. my mate coffee expresse’ed, toasted bagel on a plate hurried through and (in spite of you!), just maybe I won’t be late   it was in this…

She went to all of the best places, sipped the very finest champagne. While she knew she was the most gorgeous, everyone described her as “most vain”. The “Happiest Woman EVER”. The headlines always read. All were shocked by her finale, by her own hand…

I never (don’t say it) I never had ever hoped to be without you like I am now. You, sitting high with your God Praising praises and good works (mother, do not encourage this) and shit. All of it. You can have my empire of…

Sunshine kisses my skin The warm breath of Mother Nature kisses my neck, face, arms, and legs. Light caresses land like butterflies on delicate flowers. Beauty and nature is found where you choose to look for it. Awaken your senses and breathe it in deep.

Moldy dank and desolate insides dirty with secrets dark with lies Stale like day old pumpernickel bread crumbled on to the concrete resembling neglected shit on the street Unworthy of time let alone breath eyes sunken similar to glorious sun sets

Final Trip to Allahabad That was our final trip together; The Maha Kumbh Mela in Allahabad Where you asked me to donate clothes to a Sanyasin, I did, but the loin cloth that I wore: You smiled, assuring me And the Sanyasin vanished in the…

Dear American, the roads that had brought us close did fork yet again. Broken strings and emptied ink could not muster a good bye.