*
what hesitation do I hold, when the sun broke through me
how do I stop when you already hallowed mine pen with thy lips, and so I wrote on
the papyrus too thin, letting the letters suspend in the air- a curtain for your face
nestled in hair that beamed of spring in monsoon, evident of misplaced power commandeered by
the eyes, the eyes capable of inciting cold blooded murder and vanishing into sage like meditation,
altering the course of comets and destinies,
but lip service is all I am providing now, hoping that the letters be assimilated and drunk, hoping that there’s more…
*
-Tanmay
PS: I am in the mood for writing poetry only these days. Please bear with me.
minutes of my heart 