Are you willing girl to be my poeme tonight? To flow from my limbs onto paper?
Archive for the category Fiction
Fiction stories and poems by the Gaysi to be read by all.
Strawberries half eaten some juiced over me re-creates your aftertaste… In my bed In my head In my mouth
Freshly laundered white cotton sheets. They weren’t high thread count. They weren’t Egyptian cotton. They were just clean and cool. My naked skin delighted in how soft they felt. It was around 10 pm and the room was dark. The fan above gently whirred circulating cold air. It was humid and muggy outside – A summer night.
I ask myself, When will I be able to be proud And introduce you as my better half? Is a tag of what you mean to me needed to define you?
They frequented drawing classes, homework books, newspapers, hotel napkins, the foggy bathroom mirror, sacks of grains at the grocery shop, dirt tracks, shoe imprints, photographs of dangerous ghats in Bolivia that flooded his email inbox, strange buildings, mangoes, blood bank advertisements and so on. His arms were stiff; wrists, though, forever worming graciously.
Yet, you invade my dreams without my permission And I watch helplessly as these technicolour images
Did expectations meet your need Was the other side of her rainbow As picturesque as painted dreams Does fantasy converge?
These love tainted cords Finding their way Like fingers interwoven Forever locked in an embrace Nursing desire like wine
Each fold- whispers secrets untold “if these sheets could talk..” I giggle, nursing a thought She leans in - plants a kiss
that little day, maa, with your little son, i managed to entice him towards me, using my love as the binding ribbon.
The question dangled dangerously in my now-dotted-with-thunderclouds-chat window. My tease had posed it to me rhetorically. As part of a larger point she was trying to make. Yet, I was hung up on the heavily weighted simplicity of the question. My mind flew back to a conversation I’d once had with a 90 year old gentleman.
Her indulgent smile mocked me! And she found the first thirteen with ease, collecting them in the dim candle light. She spent ten minutes hunting for the last one… and looked at me almost irritable.
This lady made me chuckle in delight. Yet, I was always aware that what I saw of her on a little chat window was a minimization of an entire existence. And therein began the contradictions. From the plenty she did share, I began to care.
I know... I know why I know now. I know... because I think of you too!
We continued engaging in light hearted banter, occasionally venturing into the shenanigans in our lives. She possessed an optimism and energy that I couldn’t get enough of. It was infectious. Even in my mid-afternoon post-interrupted-nap-comatose state, running out to get Hot chocolate in the searing heat suddenly seemed like a great idea if it was with her. But I squelched such silliness. She would think I was nuts if she didn’t already. I started telling her how my older sibling was a scatterbrain.
She had been in this relationship for 2 years now and had first met Shaina in a conference in Mumbai. She had been in many relationships in the past, but with Shaina, she had shared the finest times of her life and had never felt so content before. Shaina and she, despite living in the same city, had decided not to live together. Actually, it was Malabika who had been anxious about sharing the same space and Shaina paid due respect to her fears.
The text messages had continued thick and fast all day. My straight friends were curious, ‘You haven’t kissed her yet? What are you waiting for Christmas?’ Suffice to say, most straight women think that when you are a lesbian, you really should be playing the field -- after all, you really can’t get pregnant, can you?
The desire The mischief No residue left Of you Of you and me Making a memory
On the way to the sea, she talks about her new painting and whether to paint the thief first or the moon. She talks of her first painting and you think about the last lovemaking. She pulls you closer and tells you about her hometown. And her house, which has jasmine growing in all corners and the swing on the terrace.