Lust and love ( part 1)

Lust is like that warm orange singlet top that makes me feel great,

I wear it during times I feel bold or wish to have some fun at my own stake,

Its quite new, still has that ambiguous David off cool water smell,

But love is that rouge pink tshirt of mine, which makes me feel cozy and warm,

I wear it on stormy days and wintry nights, it has accompanied me since the past 3 years,

No matter much I wash it away, it still makes me feel safe.


I am no master in love, I’d say, havent experienced it at all,

But lust? The desireful eyes, those oh so perfect smiles, my poetries revolve around those tales.

Maybe lust is what we confuse for love nowadays,

Their glistening eyes seem lovely to you,you’d catch them checking you out, they smile off and find different ways to accidentally touch you,

They’d tease you and make you laugh, their jokes would be so funny you’d laugh your eyes out, you’ve never felt this happy ever in life,

The way the talk the way he folds his arms together and gently frowns, the way he runs his fingers alongside his hair would make the butterflies in your stomach reach ashore,

His presence would make your day, you’d ache to be in his arms and wish to kiss him once again, you’d plan your next meet, the things you’d say, the things he’d end up doing,oh, everything should be perfect that way, for our adonis is just that way.

You’d fnd different ways to text him, ( or accidentally text him or call him either ways) send him memes, flood him with questions new, would expectt his attention right away, what if he forgets to text you day? Was he busy? Is he seeing someone new today? Let’s stalk him on insta or maybe snapchat today??

And every time you’d meet them, you’d feel jittery, it would be the first time again, you’d feel jittery, you’d get dumbfounded, act nervously and fumble on your own words,

For hey, they seem so perfect( to you) dont they?

Could they be the one?

To the incomplete feelings of mine,

-August 2020.

Poem 54#

Why do we scream in silence

But stay mum during turbulent days,

Smile during thunders,

But cry alongside those rains,

Why do we lock everything up in our concrete jail,

But wish to be free from our own chains,

Why do we run away,

From our shadow and that blurry face

From those violent winds and those unsettled waves,

But in our gloomy world, we often stay?

Random Musing(2)

I guess that’s how we humans are in the end, we say we hate lying, but surround ourselves with our brief lies which is strengthed by the others who have lived these lies, for in the end, that’s how people in a truthful world reside.

Poem 16#

Maybe it’s confusing,

Yes it’s ambiguous too.

It has no definite pattern,

Or shape true.

You feel it’s faulty,

For it’s something new.

You are bewildered,

For you can’t see through.

You are hesitant,

For you’re not sure about this view.

Thus, you wish to walk away

Not stick to it like a glue.

But it keeps revolving around,

Testing and questioning you.

So, how can can you move on,

Proceed to something new,

When this piece, you never threw?

Poem 14#

Since the past few days,

I do not know what I wish to write.

I wish to write about the silence around,

But the clock by the wall, is pounding a lot.

Is in a hurry, I don’t know why.

The cuckoo is also restless tonight,

She calls out to someone, she once loved.

But now he’s lost, so she waits.

Her empty voice echoes inside my head,

As I lay down on my empty bed,

I think about the cuckoo and her mate,

Will they ever reunite again?

Or will she have to accept her fate?

Poem 13#

I find myself in the same place as yesterday and the day before,

Sitting by the corner of my window,

Looking at the stars and clouds, grey.

Listening to the dog barking by the street,

The loud car, silently passing the way.

One lonely stranger wobbling around

Walking down the empty road, he doesn’t wish to take,

His shadow seems dark, then quickly leaves the place.

The trees are talking peacefully with one another,

Some are singing, rejoicing tonight,

Some resting or discussing their day

Overheard one of them talking about the naive cat,

Who rested between the wheels of the silent car,during the play,

It was the ninth time, they said,

She couldn’t stay.