Of Lovers & About Friends

A soft touch, a delicate statement,

Like a gentle command 'wake up' she said

In a sweet tone, like the purr of a cat,

Whose daily dose of lactose has been found,

He let his senses return to him 'Amit',

She let the word sink into the sunshine,

As the rays fell in an awkward scatter,

A collage of light and dark with,

Streaks of green and yellow that coated the walls

'Aanya.' He replied,

pulling his specks to look past the shroud,

Of focal distortion and to clarify,

If it was her, satisfied, he pulled her naked limb to his,

In a lazy attempt to induce a hormonal discharge,

That bled ecstasy from her veins and from her lips,

Escaped a gentle moan, soft as the leaf,

That lands an autumn to the ground it stood higher above

'Not now' she placed his hands on her stomach,

'Feel the moon in its cyclic turns,

Move in my body, even if delayed by a day.'

He placed his hand there

his thoughts embedded in her belly button

And felt the torsion,

The motion of a crore planets in trajectories

across the Fallopian tubes,

'I feel' he said and slid gently below,

Drew closer, as a curtain that binds lights,

To the outer confines and placed his lips,

Symmetrically in the junction between hers

And drew her ecstasy as it ebbed muffled,

Behind sheets, blinds and the morning chirping

Noon came, as the sun looked upon,

All of life light up, like a bulb aware

of all the inhabitants in the room,

And still plastered from the sunrise hour,

Amit reading the wall; in it's script of moss and decay,

Begging for paint to dilute its decayed state,

Aanya feeding sleep to waking hours,

The sheets compressed to her voluptuous frame,

Amit changed his view to her,

Traversing the lands he fancied she was,

From the hills of her breast to the valley of her thighs,

Turning slowly and receding like the waves of the sea,

Calm and gently, playing with the shore,

He mellowed her wild hair,

In gentle strokes about the edges,

Perfumed in the loveliness that only youth,

Can conjure, glass castles of ever aging foundations

The edges of her eyes parted,

Like two ends of a thought meeting to actualisation,

Drawn on her face, a careless smile and a yawn that caught,

The afternoon by surprise as the hymn of a fly,

Ceased and fled, for waking returned,

'What are you doing?' She asked in a low voice,

So the matters could be theirs to address,

But he did not reply, for he felt no need,

And the answer in his discretion of speech,

For lack speech invites lack of action

As a meaningful translation

'What shall we do now?' He asked

Pulling her closer till their heartbeats could feel,

Each other's dance, their blood like parallel streams,

And nerves electric wires that induce into each other

An eddy current which is meaningful and full of charm,

Her naked body twined to his like two tendrils,

Proximity that binds as she caresses his back

'Nothing' she said 'We die tomorrow,

Day after our ashes are churned and scattered,

Across the land, from earth to begin and end,

Our existence to feed the soil that shall

Bear fruits for consumption to the next of our kin,

So for now let's sit naked on the bed,

Waste time to make some at the back of our head,

Where we can choose to keep or forget.' Saying so caught,

The seat of his passion as he leapt and she,

Breathed into it fire and from its embers drove,

The seeds of passion that bore the bell tower,

That clocked the hours of the noon till twilight and night

'Do you love me' came as the stars waltzed from beneath,

The sheets of light and like headlights,

Gave some direction to how the sky roads,

Bent to which corner, though only at the horizons

And Amit faced Aanaya, who took his palm

Placed it on her hips that stood glazed in the heat,

From the hammer of the iron smith shaping his tool,

In strikes that build till when he breaks,

His tool prepared, the fruit borne thus,

'Aanya' he said 'If love,

is a calm breeze on a hot day, or a soothing prayer in times of need,

If it is a transient wave, then yes love,

Is with you and you and you alone.

Let youth be spent in wasteful days,

In love made that shall be never unmade once love turns sour,

For the moment is pure, for the moment is love,

Our souls bare and in unity,

That you and I are here now in love.

And if love is not monogamy, but exchange of spirit,

A malady of pure intent,

I am drowned in it with an ailment of sorts.'

And she laughed and turned off the lights,

Drew his words in a lusty kiss,

For infinity, though infinity brings but decay from its closet,

He was here now; and she with him.

Morning begins to draw upon,

Two bodies in a distance looking upon it,

To bless them with beginning,

Even as clocks ran in circles chasing one another,

Reading on their wrists what was,

Would be and had become already,

Meeting and moving apart to meet till,

Someone blinks or has a bus to catch,

Two bodies still looking, their hands gathering,

All of the absence of general things about them,

The empty field with the empty notes,

Of stillness biting into their lungs,

Their own breathing as rude intruders,

The breaking of a world,

The breaking of bread,

Out of bed, past the passion pit,

Into the abyss which was rising,

They stare into it wondering,

“Amit” said Aanya at last,

“Lend me this moment to watch,

All end,

Lend me your passing,

Lend it to me for keeping,

That I may cherish it.”

Amit looked upon her,

Brought her close to him and embraced her,

Feeling every inch of her,

Feeling everything,


Tomorrow will wake up too late,

The plastic beach sinks in the memory of green,

Green rocks that stand,


We pass into a journey that eats us from within,

We make love for what we knew,

Our pillow talk for what we shall not know,

For now as I sink into the world sinking into the sun sinking into the stars,

Sinking into the darkness,

Between this chaos I shall find this isle,

Of light entering my eye in noir,

I shall hold on to you,

You fill my anchor with the weight,

To stop in the middle of the ocean,


But not still,

In two years I will find myself,

Successful but desolate in Patna, you will be over-worked,

Finding your footing in the world,

Never to speak and in forever silence,

We shall carry to our graves deep discontent,

Today however we are in each other’s passing,

Filling the void with transient meaning.”

The morning was pointless, the sun would rise again,

Before setting a thousand years later into the sea,

To melt with the ashes of our forefathers and those,

Who walk after us,

Yet the grandeur of the illusion of life was nothing,

He was here now; and she with him.

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