Touch

There are some people whose touch you would want embedded in your skin,

Tracing fingers on your body and feel the caluses of their thumb,

Of how their breath felt against your neck and made your skin tingle,

Then there are those, whose very thought makes you shudder

Forcing you to take respite under a cold shower and pumice them off your life

 

– Midnight Musings

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Middle Ground

And there you were, somewhere between reality and dreams,

Where the lines blur and the sea meets the sky,

An ethereal blue, all around, for as far as the eyes can see.

 

We fell in love, somewhere between midnight and morning,

Most of what we had, oscillated like a pendulum,

Taking in its wake the full spectrum of feelings.

 

Either we were word pairs or the pieces of an incomplete puzzle,

Middle ground never existed,

Now here you are, once again.

 

I don’t know what to term you,

Love or like? Friends or lovers?

For the longest time I decided to not name you,

Back into familiar warm corners.

 

Beyond being branded into boxes,

Like torrential rains during summer,

Confusing meteorologists, labels and conventions, all alike.

 

Visible mess,

Infallible guess,

Incomplete address,

Nonetheless.

 

Us

We, those whom the world accuses of feeling the full brunt of emotions,

Sentimental fools, they mock and laugh.

We, who take the world to be our competition,

Fight. Gnarl. Fall. Break. Still stand and try to last, yet another day.

We, want to ace at what we do, nothing appeases us like work done well,

Take every rejection to heart, an extra hour’s effort for every stone hurled.

We, who as much fall, rise in love,

Our hearts are our impenetrable fortress, our bodies, we might give away easy.

We, don’t crave for easy, comfortable or simple,

To burn our fingers in the fire of passion, make you claim each part of our being.

We, stand by every word and every tear, no hurt, no smile goes unaccounted,

Once in love always in love, yet our faces mask what we feel.

We, hold not much for your riches, nor for the beauty of your skin,

Instead long for the sparks of brilliance in your eyes, words you speak, your thoughts.

We, for whom no wait is too long, no desire, too strong,

But sometimes we need just another wild one, to run with the wolves.