I wonder if you think of me
On those sleepless moonlit nights
Of what we could have been
if you had said yes
Dreams of the texture of your hair…
In my room on the terrace,
I spend hours shifting in my self.
moving my breasts along my body,
adjusting my eye and putting it
near my lip.
Your vision is rippled with pleasure, as she glides, oblivious,
I die a little as you smile, secretly, hoping people don't see
In your arms your need throb's delusional
She is dearer to you than the air you breathe
Sometimes, I just want to be her.
will think about the time someone kissed every inch of my side
from my neck to my hip and I'll moan
My hands move down there slowly, I groan
Under my sheets, lie a treasure trove of memories
I melt into your softness,
Plunge into your wetness
I dip into you
For memories and treasures
She treads like a whiff of wind
Vandalizing scattered newspapers
Slithering over a dozen novels
Zipped boots and long skirt
Crop top and summer hat
Romila strains to find her cologne
Winter sighs at stark defiance.
Her love had ended, for her lover she was now obsolete;
For mine had begun, O! the beauty, the seductress, the woman across the street.
I am writing this to share a poem she wrote to me once, when we were together madly in love, for beautiful 4 years before she left me for a man.
You ask me why I fight.
You ask me why I scream.
On this day of the first touch
Of mildest chill at dawn,
The freshness can infect much
Fresh thoughts in minds forlorn.
I wish to be a tree
None bigger may there be
With blackness sprawling underneath
What crazy kids are we?
Running around, trampling over hearts
Replacing the mundane adult conversations with heavy ones stirring our heartstrings
I looked everywhere for you,
Went wherever I could dredge you up
I asked people about your whereabouts
But none seemed to know.
Gangsta Gudiya is a collaboration of artists, coming together to make songs that are entertaining and yet have important, sometimes, silly messages to convey.
I do not have the right to marry my lover
I'll always marry a man for love.
Your morning is so bright
that my heart wants to speak out.
I'm sick and tired
Of logging into Grindr, Scruff, Hornet or Growlr
May be I'm addicted? May be I still hope?
But, what am I hoping for?
I have ocean currents in the pit of my stomach.
Swirling till I feel my head spin.
Forwarding the speed of sun so days and nights pass flashing by,
I sit beside my choicest window waiting for the time to die.
World is unjust and incoherent,
A place where people of faith
Credit with veracity, the state
Of Being moral and independent;
Yet they inculpate the accrues
Of different men and tribades,
Who struggle to stick to their
Proclivities of natural virtues.