You are your own god
The creation and the creator
The one that you need to worship
Know that there's no way someone can claim to love god and not love those who are just right beside them
You may take a woman
Or a man
Or both or none
And the only person who can decide that should be you
Because the only rolls that are really cute are tummy rolls and not these suffocating decaying gender roles
Vikram's collection of poetry is a beautiful intersection of his spiritual, queer, cosmopolitan, and hyphenated identity.
No red, no yellow, no grey,
How do hearts actually beat;
When we say goodbye?
Glass blue eyes
He had the warmest smile,
I adored his mind
Sensitive, unlike mine.
Screams the news,
Of her love letter to her
Where words bared their souls;
While clothed in desire.
At the age of 18, I was in a railway station when I saw her
In a sari, decked up.
With flowers in her hair and I felt something.
Attraction? Nothing mild about it.
I wonder how you feel right now,
In the arms of another comfort,
In tandem, resonant.
I feel stuck in my skin
This isn't who I am,
And will they ever believe that I'm a woman?
If I'm born a man.
In her eyes you see her story unfold,
With her eyes she stares right into your soul.
Every kiss of yours was touching my soul,
and the butterflies were giggling at our tryst.
I go in
to hear your sing
from between your thighs.
Today, I am not stuck in what you think of me-
This exhausting, endless loop of trans-misogyny
Not broken and what I ought to be
I was the mystery of an anatomy, a question asked but not answered.
when the sun knocks on our windows
kissing our bodies
twirled in bedsheets
dancing to the tunes of morning joy
A faulty road surpassed by ghoul,
Where orange and grey masters rule,
Of an affinity towards a copper statue
Built in disguise in your greener side.
You never had the courage to give our relationship a name
It concerned you more if the world found out & never looked at you the same
At a table in the corner
Whirling her world in my cup
Cream still appears like a meaning
She said, had lost over the years
The waves of her desire
Gush at my feet on the shore
I long to seep away in the ocean
I long to go with her
Always comforted by binaries
So used to divisions of only Two
I found myself baffled when I
Entered the Ladies’ Room
And found a bunch of men
My pen and pain have become the same
Each thought of you
I scribble it down
Trying to write a story about ‘us’
I’ve only recently proved it to be true
Aai, Baba - I’m dying to just tell you.