Ink

My bed knows stories,
A night when the windows,
Splurged cold winds onto my bare chest,
Shivers cracked my heels,
A weight heavy,
An anchor tied to a ship,
It knows my stories,
Mixed with the whiskey I spilled,
Glass broke and pierced my skin,
Still embedded in my stomach,
The marks stretched,
I sleep on it most of the times,
Belly on the bottom,
For it brings me lullabies,
Simple, just like the tick tock of my clock,
My bed knows stories,
Most of it,
Just like the ink I emboss these days…..

Mist

My eyes see threads of mist,
Entangled around your petite neck,
Like a festoon of fresh flowers,
Blossoming with the day,
They slowly cover up your chest,
And all that lies beneath it,
Happiness and a tinge of malady,
For they sing songs,
Those pull me closer to you,
Slowly but surely,
I desire someday to be a part,
A pearl of your necklace someday,
The admiration priceless,
Eternal and unbound……