The Significant Other

She wrote:

Sometimes at night, I wake up

Scared of the world, perspiring from

A bad dream, wishing you were there

With me. I close my eyes, think of happier times

And rock myself to sleep.

And I watched over you.

      I watched you rock yourself to sleep

     When your pillows are sodden with

     Disgusting tears spent for him.

I watched you belittle yourself

     Everyday, crying, satisfying his wounded ego

I looked over as you lay

     Sprawled on the bed while his nasty

     Chiselled body lay over you, shuddering in

     Orgasmic convulsions

I also saw you stare at the ceiling, moaning,

     Pretending your climax, or almost.

     For he never cared nor noticed.
I noticed your sad demeanour,

     Loneliness

     And I wanted you to know that

     I would like to do more than

     Just watch; and that day,

I watched you wake up with a start

     When I tried to console you

     In the middle of a bad dream,

     Only, I frightened you more.

I saw your horror, terror and decided

     To wait till he breaks you further.

     He didn’t disappoint, for once.

Soon I came unto you, gave you words and dreams

     And started playing with your hair,

     And touched the glitter of your nail-paint.

I learnt to let you trust me,

     And to talk to you of my love

     For you.

     We talked for days together

     And laughed aloud a lot

     Till they caught us in the act.

I watch over you now, my love,

     During your therapy sessions

     With the doctor who gropes

     You in your sleep

I tell you now, my love,

     One of these days

     You and I

     Will unite and let nothing

     Come between us

Only a matter of time, my love,

     Till the doctor is convinced that your

     Schizophrenic other

     Is put to rest.

We will soon be together, my love,
And teach that pervert what it means to mess with us.

What's in a name?

Lolita.

Soft palate, tongue and incestuous love

Lolita the Sensual.

Lolita the Name.

Titles,

References and history

The Mister and the Missus

Like the black veil of a guarded/unguarded woman,

Living beyond titles of supposed respect.

Dear Father, Mom, Professor, Kid,

'Name is a nice thing to call; use it.'

Silhouettes

Through long French-windows, the glow of a suburb, humming in the night,

Silhouettes you right next to me

You're asleep, away in your dreams.

Blue rivers under your skin shine bright, brim with your life blood

Heaving up and down a bulb near your wrist, over your forehead

I wonder what secrets they hold.

The morning, our time for pretenses, marriage

This night,  my watchful eye cares -

for you, your dreams, your breath, your sweat

Silhouetted against the glow of a suburb that gently hums.

Humiliation.

Show me your face: falling.

I want to see the reflection

Of your heart sinking

(sugar on the top)

I know this anticipation is pushing adrenaline

I can see the flicker of a shadow in your eyes.

Your doubt creeps through your blood. and mine.

Your face refuses to connect.

I am here, unsure of you,

Or the time.

Yet we smile like we know our lifetimes.

Faux. This is the end.

We will lose something special.

But was it even special?

The War Cry

Darkness spreads its wings

Over the eyes of a goddess

She wakes from her slumber,

Stands calm before the storm

Reaching out to face the wind, she smiles.

The distant call for battle resounds

Her legion strong behind her, she sees

Her death watching her from the skies

For a faded sense of honor

She lifts her heavy sword

From the last bit of valor

She cries out to charge

Serpents and mermaids fight below her

Dragons and demons fight above her

The goddess feels like a lesser being

She steps down from her white horse

Her feet tumble corpses

Of butterflies and birds

Her army fails, she turns

Her back to them; she flees.

-------------------------------------------------------

Her heart was strong enough to win

The war that was raging behind her

Fables of good slaying evil were true

Honor and valor were still alive.

Somehow, no bard ever told her that

The war was not worth the win nor loss

Shadow

He lurks behind the lamp-post

Circling throughout the day

Around the turn of a book

The musty smell agrees.

Thrill. Pleasure. Comfort.

In the eyes of a tear

When the loved one goes

In the invitation

Of the town's seductress.

Lust. Pain. Jealousy.

He creeps to the mind

Of a wife

Knowing her man

His smell; not his anymore.

Doubt. Drama. Love.

The cry of an eagle,

Yellow specks running

And the mother hen's underbelly

Fear. Wonder. Hunger.

In death, in life, in light, in dark

Dancing to a tune that He alone knows

Like a flame burning a forest

He steps to your moves as well

Watching. Listening. Laughing.