Poem
I would once again be theirs, in memory, on the day my lover would die.
From silver screens to pages penned,
Our identities explored, where journeys never end.
We are two boys in our early twenties
who can read touch like that, who have broken into
a 200-year-old mansion, without permission,
to see from above where people like them go
after 377 has been read down only for those
who can stay behind closed doors — in the custody
of cheap hotels, or houses that welcome nights
with the sound of latches closing.
“Large will not fit you.” / She is scoping me, up and down, eyes / Flicking fast and darting away…“Try extra-large instead.”
A kiss for the side of your neck One for the last of your back For a year that we…
Desire is a man’s turf, right up there with moustaches and Adam’s apples / I’m the apple, I am the snake, I am Eve / I am the vibrator nestled between flimsy, cheap lace underwear / I am the shame, of saying I came
नींद की गलियों में क्यों कर छुप-छुपा कर
ख़्वाबों के मुलायम धागे बाँधती रहती है
“Large will not fit you.” / She is scoping me, up and down, eyes / Flicking fast and darting away / From the roundness of my breasts / To the happy jiggle of my thighs.
What is something I do that makes you feel good?
when you lay your hands on the upper part of my back
where do you feel it – on your body – when i say i love you?