sreekar

diffusing my love with flirtatious cues.

Smiles lighting up like beacons,

matter morphs,

into a pale phantom of what once was.

Haunting my gaze, stifling my lungs,

with flashes of vintage sepia,

as skin and sound crescendo into an uproar,

the night applauds with its chaos, admiring the fusion.

Fueled by spirits, the soiree continued,

with animosity and virility,

it began to leave its mark, like a painting in tribute.

Then the sun dawned, the fire quenched,

the parties departed, once again,

as they wait for another invitation,

marvelling duality, like she weathered storms,

in silence, as if divining.

We don’t speak, but our souls cling to each other,

masking admiration, yet oozing desire,

as if Icarus now had wings of steel, not feathers.

Touch, humming ballads of surrender,

while shadows weave a ballet,

her yearning now a hymn,

for I am a starved preacher,

was harboring waves of warmth within,

now, lucent with nightglow,

like the moon was living in the lining of her skin.

As lips caressed, bodies furled,

painting feelings which were forever longed,

inhibition, now withered away,

he saw rose petals on skin the color of sand.

When she said she gained weight,

he started to think she would fit into her clothes better firsthand.

On her scars, he drew stars and on her days full of flaws,

he gave his warmest regards.

He was the Jim to her Pam,

love carefully stashed away into my mental bonnet.

Her lips scream bold, her eyes invitingly warm yet,

fear made the conversation cold.

They say my hands are cold,

so I start digging, and start patiently waiting

in this burrow of solitude,

and the way your memories come crashing into my mind,

like waves, they softly engulf me.

I wish I could just put up a lawn chair,

waiting forever near the shore,

where you always reappear,

as the tension lasted longer than my patience.

she felt like a cigarettes after sex song,

the way her eyes harboured a cosmic sentience.

her hands swayed according to the flow of the conversation,

while her smile shimmered through,

then let it coddle me with comfort,

because at its core,

even death is a mother,

as I choke the pain down

while my soul wants to feel ecstasy and sprint around.

They feed on my weaknesses,

my legs are paralysed in place,

love feels like the devil,

almost like staring death in the face.

Conditioned to provide,

but blessings were never to be found,

Cursed with knowledge,

but the pain runs through me,

personas piling on the floor,

bent over, begging repentant.

Cursed with bleeding eyes, forced to realise,

I can only see darkness amidst broad daylight.

Shadows of sins cloud over my lofty life,

No matter where I run, I cannot hide,

the consequences weigh heavy,

pride’s killing me everyday,

it chokes my soul, steady.

Feel like the world wants me to pray for them,

But who's praying for me?

Nobody's ready, it's plain to see,

where dining rooms are landfills of fights and pickles,

greed and arrogance made familial minds turn fickle.

Where generational habitual errors are dogma,

and being emotionally available is a stigma.

Love and companionship are absentee landlords,

just like two lovers who allowed themselves to part with a rift of feudal fjord.

Intimacy is a jester’s showpiece,

offsprings are objects of emotional incest,

trauma and feelings bleed through anger and sadness, which are barely addressed.

Here lies a broken family, hanging by its last straws,

Now I have a choice, either leave it to rot

He watched her soul gleam in plain sight.

Divided through time and space,

uniqueness lying, lonely, rolling in its digital grave.

We are all interlinked, enslaved to our mechanisms,

feeling alive is what we crave,