Tag Archives: gentle

gentle does it

i stumble
on the stepping stones of love;
instead of falling i
catch myself in time
to feel enough
to send me flying.

call me crazy
but i like it;
head spinning in your arms
i see his eyes
and drown in yours.

 gentle does it.

the colour of the petals of the rose

your flowers withered
in the gentlest of the ways

petals dried in heat,
but languidly, with grace
heads bowing, browning
but staying whole, intact — 

i wish our love to be this subtle:
shimmying harbour in the deepest blue,
waves of the desire hurling,
burning sand up in the night
until it runs like a sea of café latte  
topped with strawberry sauce.

the colour of the petals of the rose.

48. sweet as lemon sorbet

half my life, i’m freefalling, the other half – looking back on the sights i’ve seen in those few moments before my parachute opened, before the maddening rush of adrenaline was curbed by my safety net, the soft fabric above me saving me.
you are that fabric – the fabric of my life spun by the yarn of your love, by the generosity of those hands turning the spindle. 
all because you feel responsible for me. or maybe not.

in the end, my life’s my life: a merger of past faces, names, soft hands that once caressed my skin or longed to do so.
and you.
the thread of you’s the thread of me. and i want everyone you know to love me, unbearably, exquisitely so that you know the worth of love. so that you can count broken smiles knowing something inside them breaks for me.

an only child, i knew how to be painfully selfish. i learnt it well, my only teacher – solitude and parents’ love. but here i am, sister in tow, and still that only child rhetoric lives on in me. so once in a while, i feel in need of broken dreams of others to see my hope reflected in those pieces of looking-glass.

and if you can’t blame me who can blame me?
my friend once told me i was cruel to boys, to men, male counterparts. that i was cruel because my skattered gazes never solidified, my touch was soft but vapid, my hands gentle but uncaring. so what? i said it’s my revenge. 

and so it is.
as sweet as lemon sorbet melting on my lips.