A Pervert Nostalgia.

Bending like a trained gymnast,

Lumps revealed.
Curving and arching.
My eyes wander on your scape,
I feel gooses and bumps.

This sparse growth
This thick bush,
Is trying to hide from me-
Big rocks scattered and a bent log, broken
Running long and thick between it.

Moist from the night's fall
Exotic smells and heightening senses.
These roads to Mussoorie.
This nostalgia.

My Stand Point.

For my musings are not literature, not even close.

They are mere reflections, characterless

Of the life that I lived, mediocre.

Compromised lovers and comfortable love stories.

A cheap book made into a cheaper film.

Half Bitch.

Slipped at the age of 15
And never learnt a lesson.

Slipped again at 18 and 22

Well, nothing again.

I gave my heart in style

Succumbed when I got no replies.

Let is suffocate in a dingy chamber.

Till is ceased to exist

Or so I thought.

Love, in all its velocity

blew off me, my charm

Love in all its texture

corroded my being, my all.

For love it comes in such fierceness.

A simple rubbing on my shoulder,

is now a itchy red scar.

And now Im what they call

A stone hearted half bitch.