Love or Sex?

 Those kisses on the lips

and those curling of the tongue, 

as your finger progressed to strip-

the hook that had hidden my bosom for long, 

a jolt unplugged,

the years-long trauma associated with touch.

Entangled somewhere inside the heart

as your hands moved towards the path;

unexplored, untouched, unloved,

I could feel a pang of heat,

hear the rhythm of our heartbeat,

drenched on our moist,

emitting the faint smell of nicotine.

My heart shouted,

"Let's paint the canvas red"

"Bloody Red, without the threat of past and live in the moment."

Can I call this love?

Or, was it just a thirst,

an outcome of a few odds?

An act of making love

or an overtly glorified sex,

that just teased you out from a grave 

in which you were asked to act dead?

If only you could...

                                                                    I wonder why don't you see 

yourself with my eyes,

If you do, you would see

the maddening soul

that won't need any substance to feel high.

I wonder why you don't hear yourself with my ears.

If you do, you would listen to

the intelligent heart

that needs no validation, 

external for that kickstart.

I wonder why you don't touch yourself with my hands,

If you do, you would feel

how warm and cosy you are,

you yourself would feel.

I wonder why don't you smell yourself

with my nose.

If you do, you would smell the perfume of belief that emirates

in each air that you breathe. 

I wonder why don't you taste yourself 

with my tongue.

if you do, you would taste

the recipes that life has 

made for yourself. 

I wish I could say this to you

every time you are down,

trodden and devasted. 

I wish I was that close to you.

Alas, I scroll down that comment button with the hope that

someday my feed would revisit a glorious post

made by you that has hope, belief, happiness, and victory. 

The First Kiss

 You tasted like brown sugar

Yes, brown sugar, milder to the lips 

deep molasses flavor to my tongue tips

like a perfect crystalized toffee

you smelt like a mixture, yes a mixture of rum and cigarette

irresistible and creamy, but just 

right enough to make it dreamy.

You touched me warm, yes warm like an old handwoven

sweater

thin in layer but thick enough 

to exfoliate my dried flair

I saw you me, yes me

who is intertwined with hope and fear

and heard your heartbeat

like a murmur soft enough to calm 

your breath but heard enough to 

stop the fluttering of my pounding heart.

Hey you, can you believe 

I can still feel you in my lips, tongue, eyes, ears, nose,

and in my every single breathe, 

our first kiss