not your cup

leave the loving
for us insane ones.
go build a white picket fence,
and save your little house.

being in love, my love,
is not your cup of joe.

it's no decaf americano,
this love,
it's dark, mysterious, sweet,
it drives you to lick cream
off plastic spoons
eyes closed, oblivious
of stares, ignorant of
'what ifs' and 'buts'.

at its darkest, it's desire.
a free fall from the sky
into white waters
that end in a whirlpool.
and you don't know how to swim.

at its lightest, it's caring.
watching the waves on a beach
lit only by a thousand fireflies
waiting for the sliver moon to set.

it's bitter too, and addicting.
there are no time outs
in this ritual dance
of two steps forward, one back,
holding close to let go,
and letting go to meet once again.
delicious storms in the coffee cup.

so, you, my traitorous one,
can go dilute some other
espresso. come back
when you've learnt to drink deep
from this coffee cup
called insanity.

-----------------

i have had this saved as a draft for ages...outgrew it, i guess. but here it is.

five seconds of fame

http://Manisha.Lakhe.famousstar.de/


as i look at the production schedule in my hands, looks like i am in the motion picture business.

i plan to blog the entire process...so watch this space!

I’m breaking this habit,
Of kissing you in my dreams.
For when I do,
I wander through my day
On autopilot,
Smiling at appliances,
Bumping into closed doors.

Even turning the pages,
Of a newspaper spread
on the cold morning floor,
(lying on my tum),
Becomes an explicit experience.

Just the other day,
I stood under the shower
Re-living the dream,
Until the city water supply
Announced a crisis.

When the coffee that was touched
By dark, bitter chocolate
Touched my lips,
and I exhaled your name,
Friends turned into enemies,
And left the table.
And our favorite coffee shop.
Turned into one giant
Neon-lit fantasy.

I ought to drop my high heels,
And take to running shoes,
Write ‘I’m sorry’ notes,
To friends and family.

Stop laughing at my confession!
Don’t even think about
Offering a spoonful
Of the whipped delight
Of your cappuccino.
Your grin is bad enough
To weaken my resolve.