this is a desert

take my skin first,

strip it away

layer by dry layer,

slowly, i want to feel the pain.

and let the sun

separate the red,

until the sands are thirsty no more.

let the dry northerly winds,

blow away strands that hold

these hollow bones,

so white these bones,

see how easily they crumble,

but will you read what's inscribed

by his quill first?

mannami goyam aanal haq,

mannami yaar ni goyak vigo,

you own me, my blue one,

but won't claim me,

send me copies of yourself,

who don't wish to claim me either.

but am still here on this path,

where a peacock feather lies

a careless clue of you.

am still here,

because the ceaseless wind

brings a refrain of your breath

from a hollow bamboo

sometimes.

in pink

you should not be so obvious

my blue one, in your gloating.

because i stand here smitten

by you smelling of juhi flowers.

all you had to do is ask.

you know i would leave everything

and show up at your doorstep,

windblown hair, heart on my sleeve,

hungry to see your smile.

i'm easy, you think,

gullible even,

malleable, like silly putty.

and still you weave an elaborate plot

have the ticket clerks in not one

but three multiplexes

tell me friday first shows are all booked!

making me believe,

i am lucky to simply walk up to your temple.

you think i don't know your tricks?

you think i don't know how much

you're missing me?

how much you need me

to be standing here,

looking slightly foolish,

and so totally lovelorn?

all you had to do is ask.

btw. you look good even in pink.