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…..

Heart

I bleed through glasses of ivory,
Thick, viscous, slow to move,
My veins, the slow drama of an eternal love,
The blood sometimes harden up,
And becomes the color in my pastel,
I dip my brush in it seldom,
The canvas this skin of mine,
It beats and beats so hard,
My little, oh so little,
September Heart……

Bed…

It slowly takes over me,
The melodious cacophony of the night,
Dorned with scents velvety,
It pierces my heart,
Into many pieces,
The few I bleed everyday when I wake up,
Onto the side of the bed,
You are not here,
I plunge myself into oblivion,
The brothels sometimes hear my stories,
For my mind knows those bodies aren’t you,
This wretched vessel still needs a beating heart,
A touch not even remotely close to as yours,
My eyes deceive me often,
And I see myself falling into abyss,
Every time a figure resembling you,
Touches me, comes even close,
For a sweet serenade the night sings,
I hold onto strangers,
They kill me softly,
And I close my eyes,
As breath becomes my only enemy,
The other side of my bed,
The only side of my bed……..

Woman enjoying foggy mountain morning from the hotel of Sa Pa, Vietnam

दर्द….

उस दर्द की क्या दवा ढूंढिये,
रह रह कर जो उभर ही आता है,
मर्ज होता नहीं कुछ बीमारियां ऐसी भी हैं जनाब,
कुछ वक़्त के साथ जाती हैं,
कुछ के लिए यह जाम ही काफी है…….

Where to find the cure of the pain,
Emerges that with time to time,
Diseases sometimes are incurable,
Those that go with time,
Or sometimes a glass of my favourite wine….