This perfume.

This wind brings me you
Floating in this aroma
Of a fantastical opportunity
That twined me with life, love and me
I knew of what grew
In the numerous breaths I took
To live and relive the moments.
I felt alive-

It’s strange, rather appalling
One moment-detached
And the other in your arms
Your soft shirt with my arms around
Those days I lived tight in your hold
With your eyes in mine
And my breath in yours

I’m sitting with my dress
Clutched strong against my face
But my breath is short
And so is the time I live
In the smell of you...

I know I was alive
I was different
I have come a long way
I’ve given in to our facts
I’m smiling
I’m not alone
I own myself
I’m in love
Except this time
It’s only me...

But this feeling
This smell
Your touch
Your hold
Your shirt
My cheeks

This *** perfume
I’m sorry
I don’t want to part with it
I can’t use it
This perfume

It is the only means to take me straight
To the world that’s long gone
Yet forms the nub of who I am

It hurts each time
yet
with each breath I smile
with some I cry
and compose again
into an adult
shoving it away
and staring
staring-
until I finish dreaming
and come back to realise
I’m sill the same
And you’re away
Just like this smell
Just like

This perfume
That comes out once in a year
Perhaps
Because I fear to lose
My life that lives safe within

100 ml
Benetton Sport

This perfume.

Did you?

My second contribution to "him":

Did you want to leave
Before we said good bye...?
While I felt your presence
And you, mine
Two pairs of eyes
Awaiting a meet
While I said good bye
To a couple of others
And you stood beside
As if to look for none
But a clue to start
A conversation

“look what I got,
Remember?”
The first thing you said
Slipping in next to me
While I was alone
“aww”...
I hugged it
And you never asked for it
Down it went
Into the statement of style
And convenience I got along
....
Only to become the reason
For the last connection...

What is it that lives between us?
I have felt it
Don’t deny your acceptance
I read your eyes
Else, why would I tend
To turn towards the door
Right when you are stepping in
And why do I find you notice my presence
As I acknowledge yours
With a blind disregard
And a hidden blush

There’s a “something” running
In the space between us
That clicks in our senses
And notifies presence
Of you and me
Around me and you...

So knock the silence
Off your face
And give some wings
To your say
I don’t want to answer
When next I can meet
Let me see you go out of your way...

Him

So, for all those who i wish to address and the ones that i think have an ear to lend....there's news. I'm beginning a new series and it's called "him". Don't ask me why; this was the first impulse of an excited brain and i couldn't deny it.

This series will contain poems(yes! you guessed i right). These poems are meant for my encounters with "him", where "him"(being the focus) has a very high tendency of being different each time!

P.s: It is important to consider that "him" could be imaginary. Discretion appreciated.

With a hope that it tickles your senses at different echelons of passion, here goes the first one:


Sips of tea...
He planned a sudden encounter
I giggled...
With bubbles of excitement
popping audibly loud
Yet renting composure
I asked him to wait and he did.
I walked like silk
Counting every step,
Panning each eye
To a direction not his...
He was up there
From where, everything was visible
The cars, lined in a row
The garden, snoring, curled up in cold
The dogs, strolling in pride
His cycle, parked carefully, lovingly
And me.....walking up to him
With an apparent casualty
I risked, raised my sight
To steal a view of him
He was gone
Down with a sense of relief,
Growing courage...
Hidden anxiety
My eyes led my steps
Eyes rise...fall on him
He is here...has he?
No! His concern was his cycle
Misled by distance, he was pulled down
Relieved. We were lifted up.
‘Nice house’, first step.
What followed was formality
5, 7, 10 minutes.
Why are you being so formal?
Green Tea- Lipton
And at ease- our souls
Our bodies-
Proximity- Decently minimum
Two lamps, one couch and 5 pillows.
Him, me and tea.
The rest hardly mattered...
The noise of the dogs barking...
People partying...
Hearts beating...
So how was your summer?
So, a length of time only to listen
Pretend to listen
Grin, sip, grin, agree.
Answer, sip, question, listen.
Running parallel like a 70’s film roll
In the screens of my eyes
Was
A pull of cheeks
Sometimes a hug...
My head resting on his arm
A gentle, incidental brush of hands
A kiss on my cheek
An empty stare....
So battled these dreams
With my brain’s brighter side
Until he announced the moment to leave
While a hundred plans of asking him to stay
Were trying to make their way
All my head could do was nod
It was too late, he got up and marched out.
I followed.
A stare...
A long smile
Discomfort....should i?
Of course not! Let him.
He did. The best one so far.
Well intended, awaited as if.
And I went back in,
Shutting the door immediately,
Keeping the setting unchanged
To preserve the recent presence
The taste of tea,
That had never tasted so,
still tickling.