Incomplete Poems

Incomplete poems are abandoned children

Waiting to find their rightful home

Poem 1:

Your kiss

Is the only letter

I received from you

I read it every day

Poem 2:

My whispers won’t bother you anymore…

Neither my silence

Poem 3:

My heart is a red red bird…

Poem 4:

Death is a blessing at the time of strife

Poem 5:

Tie me to a tree

And talk spring to me

Poem 6:

Curtain closes

What next?

Last Look

She looked at me

One last time

With her deep brown eyes

No one else could
Ever after…

Incomplete Poem

My incomplete poems

Are full

Of your leftovers

One of them carries the shawl

You forgot on my chair last time

The other one has cake crumbs

From your birthday

Scattered all over

Between lines

One of them keeps drinking

From the half empty glass

With your lip prints on them

Another one has washed itself

With your scented soap

Over and over again

One of them has stains

Of your red nail paint

Smeared on every line

Few of them are entangled

In your hair brush

Many of them are suffocating

In your dark brown suitcase

Yet many more

Are always with me

Digging their nails into my body

Everywhere

You kissed me

Touched me

And

Made love to…

They break me down

Into small sugar cubes of your lips

And turn each part of me

Into an unfinished kiss

In love

I have become

Your incomplete poem

Strange Dialect

She speaks

In a strange dialect

Almost like love 

Offering

She left her eyes at his savage door

Painted her lips on his lustful walls

Combed her black hair

In front of his lecherous mirror

Kept her perfume under his hungry pillow

Tied her dupatta to his rapacious bed

Left her cloths under his lascivious quilt

And forgot him forever

He wanted everything

That could be held in hands

She gave him exactly that

And left

Answer to all curious readers

I don’t believe in kiss

Till

I have it

I don’t believe in love

Till

I am in it

Whispers

I 

Love

You…

I 

Love 

You

Too…

Sculpting

Since

You took me

In your arms

All the red light areas

Of my mind

Are deserted

None of my thoughts

Are prostituted

None trafficked

No part of my soul

Is sold

In cheap bazaars

In love

 You chiselled a saint

Out of an ordinary rock

Condemnation

How cruel!

How infinitely cruel!

A mortal finite life

Condemned with

Eternal infinite love

Final Kiss

In the end

Before

Final separation

We kissed

Kissed like a prayer

Hung

The whole world

On a scandalous cross

And never cared

Disappeared Poems

Unmarked 

Mass graves

Of my poems

Missing

For years

Were found

In every town

Of your secret diary

What did you do to them?

Tell me

What did you do to them?

Proof

This distance 

This terribly unyielding long distance

Separating

You and me

Is the only proof

Of hell on earth

Vindication

I won’t write them anymore…

I won’t…

She tortures

My poems

With her unwarranted tears

And her derisive smiles

I won’t write them anymore…

I won’t…

Unconsummated Rooftops

We stood on the roof

For hours

Silently

Marking the unseen boundaries

Of twinkling stars

With our naked eyes

Choosing constellations for each other

And in moments of intense longing

We looked at each other

Like two strangers

Falling in love

Time passed by

Like the passing of an impatient traveller

We lay besides each other

Till all other roofs were deserted

Till all the stars were marked and disowned

And all the moments of closeness exhausted

Yet another night remained

Sleepless – unconsummated!

Thanatophobia

I fear

That my poems

Would mean nothing to you

And I will have to keep

All of them

In the cold mortuary

Of my diary

Till I bury them

One by one

In the graveyard

Of my biography

Hermeneutics

One who reads a poem

Abandons

All hopes of safe return

One who writes

Is never rescued