Our lips meet. One pair
Too large for the other
Unfit and imperfect
Yet engulfed in impatience.
His mouth tastes like pleasure
Of a million dreams
Weaved out of a different childhood.

I bite on to his wet neck and shoulders
The salt – reminiscent of oceans
And whole horizons
His body letting out a deep moan
Like smoke rising out
Of smouldering amber.

And I kiss on his forehead
The sweat beads clinging
On to my upper lip, moist
A distant monsoon memory
A moon-kissed night.

My hands, on his broad chest
The hair sticking to my palms
Like soft mud
His touch
Taking me back to locked doors and windows
Never meant to be dealt with
His fingers fondling,
Reaching places I am scared to go.
Caressing scars, too old to hurt
Yet too fresh not to wince.

And I traverses his body
And he relishes mine.
Like sand in an hourglass
Again and again, back and forth,
Sharing every fold of our skin.

My lower lip now bleeding
Of passion, and craving.
And once it’s done
He drowns in my bosom
Breathing in the stench of his own tears
His coarse hair, wafting cigarettes.

His eyes, weary
Reflecting the emptiness of the sky outside
He smiles at me, showing faded enamel
But it doesn’t last
As like a lullaby waiting to be over.
His eyelids slowly drift away
leaving mine on his.
Dawn has pervaded
The stream has gone dry
There’s no breeze, no stardust.
And no kisses left.
He doesn’t call me darling tonight,
Nor does he say I seem cute.
I look back at him
Darkness has departed
And so has he.