Aftertaste

The lingering warmth
On the tips of my fingers
Where yours had stayed
I now feel its aftertaste
Like the effect of a Schubert piece
Beauty wrought in longing
Like some things which don’t have a name
Your delicious mouth
And its aftertaste
Like coffee on a rainy Sunday evening
So that when I go away
There is still a mark
That continues to say
Those words we whisper
Into each other’s ears
Amidst peals of laughter
Stolen kisses and silent embraces
Perhaps on your unmade bed
The imprint of your scent
On my clothes
Also lies the aftertaste.
Till I swim back
Into your arms again.

Having a smoke with you

Having a smoke with you
Is stupid, as stupid and pointless as chasing cars,
But i would rather sigh with you, blow wisps of our dreams
Draw them for you with the spiralling smoke
Partly because I feel like a five year old kid who draws on walls,
Goes hop-hop on the sidewalks, partly because I love you so much
For reasons so numerous, and sometimes for no particular reason
Partly because i can sit with you all day, all night long
And talk about my fascination with Jews, at how brilliant they are and how determined
And that really kills me when I think about Munich
How that girl in class looked so beautiful today that I could simply die
Partly because we look so amazing in that photograph
And how my hand fit so snugly in yours, as though it was crafted that way
And when i think of all the places i want to visit,
I think of waltzing with you in Prague, Sitting on the banks of the Bosphorus with you in Istanbul
And that’s probably where Orhan Pamuk fell in love
Also because i want to take you back to Bosnia where i lived
By the river Drina where they found land mines
And i somehow cheated death though i used to built sand castles there
There are landmines in Vietnam too you told me
Partly because i fell in love with Delhi because of you
Even when i was determined to detest it
It now feels like home
Also because i love the sandwiches you make, they are so-so good
That i feel like clapping my hands and giving you a standing ovation
Also because i can sit in silence with you and the smoke builds up that silence for us
And it’s just wonderful to watch you from the corner of my eyes
And Love in that silence in the fleeting twilight hours in the yellow light that shines on you
And your shadow seems so aesthetic that i wish i had a camera with me then
And i feel i am living an extra-ordinary experience everyday,
Something others are cheated out of
And i just wanted you to know that it’s awefreakingsome
Which is why i am telling you about it.

How to tell you I love you?

It's sealed in a box
Wrapped in folds
Of whatever that makes me sigh
 When you are far away
And you lose a little bit
Of your love for me,
 Do you forget the feel of my skin,
 The taste of my mouth,
 The dreaminess I engulf you in?
How to tell you I love you?

They do terrible things to you

They do terrible things to you
Cruelly disillusion you
Disturb your sanity
Make you remember
 The mediocrity of your existence
And sometimes you wonder
If your life is as despicable as that
They end mostly in tragedies
Someone or the other dying,
 Leaving, falling apart
But you love them nonetheless
 Even when they make you cry
 You weep for them
 For yourself
Because in their misfortune
You find a way to end yours differently.

There you are

There you are,
 Like you stood eight years ago,
Clothed in terrible innocence,
 Terrible sincerity
How did I bear the aching loss so long
 Only you know
But now we have one year worth of laughter
 To fit into three days,
 We have the gift of stupidity
And sincere role-playing
Of pseudo-intellectuals, commies,
 Garbage-collectors, world-savers,
World-forsakers.
And among the most wonderful things,
 Is doing the most ordinary things with you.

Waiting. Heart-aching.

When I woke up
And when I ghost-walked through the day
Trudging to class,
My heart was sinking
That terrible ache spreading
Right upto my fingertips.
 That you are gone.
 And she is not here yet.
And the waiting, the waiting,
The heart-aching.

Let That be My Scar

To what silly games

Did I forsake myself?
I forgot the girls I was fighting for.
I forgot for one, the real causes
The one I swore I would fight for
Live for and die for,
For the narrow slit of my eyes
For the history of my people,
Of your people.
Of all the misunderstood, forgotten people.
But now I have you crying over me
When I dont deserve your tears.
I nearly lost you
By my own carelessness,
Because I was a seventeen year old
Stuck in an eighteen year old's body
And I didnt think twice,
Infact I didnt think at all.
I didnt realise that I was the girl
I was supposed to save.
And that I failed.
Let that be my scar.

You are mine again

Your lips are parted slightly,
Your eyelids are dim,
 I touch them,
Run my fingers over them,
 Your softness, Your cold cold skin
Your collar bones,
 And press myself close to you,
 To hear the familiar rhythm of your heart,
 Once again I tell myself
You are
 Mine. Again.
  I lost you once
When you got caught in the web of your past
You lost me, I cried.
 You nearly broke me.
 Oh you did. Cruelly.
Viciously. Like an act of perfection.
I went over it. Over and over again.
It will take time to heal,
 The wounds are raw still.
But since you swore you would do whatever it takes.
Start by promising me you are just mine again.