So here I come with my heart lumped in sleeves, bleeding words for you
To be read. I don’t always need your hands to touch me; your verbal wisps are enough.
They are withered, creamy faces of that haunting longing…that drums in ecstasy.
That stretches like a boiling wound from Himalayas to the seas,
Lap up in arms and flows down like a maddening tune…
That choirs up with the songs of the streets and the air that frisks between your lids.
I will give up everything to let you hear me once. Or the seamless fragrance of an official sorrow, that sits between my thumbs and stares at the notepads. Steals moonlit roads and the street lights to be blazed in an endless spool of your dreams. I am in those dreams too, whirling right next to you.
Where I shock and scare and spit and swoon.
This is all because, I love so much.