Tuesday, 22 September 2015

THE PERFECTLY CLAD GENTLEMAN


When he walks into the room you think he’s just another stranger clad in a perfect suit.
When he takes his seat,
It’s as if he has calculated a poise just to make you notice him, and it works.
You’re suddenly conscious of how you look.
Then you remember how you’d sat to know if it needs alteration.
If it does,
You make subtle changes so that he doesn’t notice.

When you’re perfectly placed, you glance in his direction.
“Thank God he’s looking elsewhere.”
You get enslaved in his aura before he actually looks at you.
You get so enticed that you forget to look away.
Then he turns in your direction.
You’re so startled you forget to react.

After a second you blush.
2 seconds later you break out into a sheepish smile.
And right then you can almost trace a smile starting at the corners of his mouth.
But you’re too nervous to wait it out.
You turn away but then you remember something you saw.

You look again.
And you can’t help but be mesmerized by those perfectly chiseled cheeks.
Those defined cheek bones are simply exquisite.
You’re so enthused you want to move closer and observe each contour.
This time he watches you.
The urge to turn away nudges you.
But this time you wait it out.

Your eyes move up until they stop on their own as if in his hands.
Those of a puppeteer.
You’re snared by those glimmering eyes
Perfectly sculpted as if they were meant to pierce your heart.
Then for a second you regain your bearings
And you look away.

The next time you look up
His eyes are on you.
You fight the urge to blush.
Your eyes seem to have missed the memo and so they sparkle.
It’s as if your body no longer serves one master.

A subconscious acceptance of this intrusion.
He pierces.
But even when he touches just the tip
The rest crumbles as if paving way for him to be engulfed into your soul.
As if you are ready to no longer stand on your own.

Finally you accept it. You smile.
He also smiles.
And as though telepathy is your language,
You both look away.
And every glance after is a perfect symphony whose only shortcoming is the people around you.



Thursday, 1 January 2015

LOOKING THROUGH THE WINDOW

I remember falling asleep thinking of her. I looked at her pictures and couldn’t help but miss those lovely eyes. I miss being around her because when she pouts, I just want to take a photo and show her how cute she looks. You should be with me when she blushes. To see the radiance she has, a radiance that touches the keenest part of your eyes. You’re left wondering whether such beauty can be yours for the asking.

This morning when I woke up, I looked outside the window. Everything was covered by the morning dew. The swing set by the lake caught my eye. The beads of water trickling as the red swing swung as if listening for the pace of the new dawn. I remembered how she loved swings and I could see her laughing with the wind blowing through her hair. Dressed in nothing more but a white dress and her lips painted red, the strands of her hair fell daintily on her face. As her laughter disappeared into the distance, I remembered the conversation we had last night.

We spoke to each other in a way only lovers understand. Yet, neither of us knows what we are.

“I want passion and lust.” I said

“Passion? Are you sure you can handle the demands of the soul? That need..... the need to give and be given? That urgency of responding to each and every touch, gentle or rough, light or deep? Lust? Can you anticipate the escalating yearns? The demand that knows no bound? Or are you strong enough to tame the desires into submission?”

Her response made me feel as though she had been thinking of what would erupt between us, but I didn’t care. I wanted more. It was new year’s eve and I wanted more than what was there. I wanted to make her mine.

I looked at her cautiously. The light was dim and the night hushed. I moved closer to her and she seemed inviting. The air stood still for a moment and I gazed into her eyes. I saw a glimmer and I smiled because I knew there was hope. A strand of hair fell on her face and she looked down as if waiting for me to pull her chin up. I didn’t know whether to take the risk on a late new year's eve.

Her lips were softer than velvet, coated in an element I envied. Her skin softer than a baby's making me afraid to touch for fear of bruising her. Her heart, purer than gold and I was scared to ask for it's innocence. Her mind more beautiful than sanity but I needed it for myself. I didn’t know whether to take the leap on a late new year's eve.

Do I take the risk? I tell myself that it's only a dream, a fragment of my imagination. Yet she's still there, waiting to be shown pleasures of the night. Things had escalated to levels that my own desire burnt me and my lust tormented me. I was scared.... What if it's just a dream....what if I wake up only to find her in another man’s arms. But…but it's not a dream.... and fear is just a limit to a life where there are no mistakes, no regrets...but can I leap and risk it all?

All I had to do was speak and wait for her reply. Wait for that voice that could unravel my fate or bind it. I had to yield to achieve that desire that burns. Only a sign of yielding can win over a dream. It can pierce through the fear and appeal to the deepest strength. The courage that no one dares to arouse, but one whose ability is weakened by the desire one has. She heightens my imagination to reach the heavens and deepens it beyond the icy cold depths of the oceans. I wanted her to bind my soul with hers and we can become one, and when I would be ready to step out and face reality with a completeness, I wanted her with me.

I wanted to entrust her with my soul and believe in her love. To  release myself from fear and love  her whole. I looked into her eyes. Beautiful as ever. They glimmered under the light. She was beautiful, elegant. Her lips tempting me to lean for a kiss, but it was not yet midnight. It had to be on time. It had to be perfect. But her eyes, what was it about them. They made me  want to jump over a cliff. They made me weak, they made me hasty and I was afraid I might ruin the moment’s magic. The way I always do.

But her eyes spoke of solace. She has a pure soul. She’s a rose. She's a drop of water in the desert. It was almost midnight. I blinked. And in that quarter of a second, I saw the night ahead. I felt her lips on mine. I felt her skin on mine. I felt her heart beat rise. I felt her soul. I felt her purity and realized that she was also scared. She held me close to her, as tightly as she could she clung. And then I held her. In that second I saw the new year through her eyes. And just like that, she was mine to love.


The sound of her morning yawn brought me back. This new year came with a beautiful gift. The gift of love.