In my arms. Tight!

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Let there be me when you ain’t around,
Damn ur fragrance! All the time it surrounds.
Longing to get you in my sight.
Gasp you into me, as soon as I might.
You’re toxic, you keep me day-dreaming
Dreams to hold you in my arms. tight.

I see your marks on me when I’m in shower.
Digs of your nails, with all your power.
Still feel your hiss in my ears,
That bite on my chest, you did pierce.
Come to me, take back that bite.
Dreaming to hold you in my arms. tight.
Dreaming to make this day..that night.

As you trembled, the candle extinguished.
Felt your shivers, the distance diminished.
My fingers made their way beyond your waist,
Your shuddering breath, I did savour, I did taste.
In that dark, you were the light.
Dreaming to hold you in my arms. tight.
Dreaming to make this day..that night.

Now when you’ve left, I smell of you,
The mess in our bed, love this view.
You make me exhausted, you get drained,
I’m out of breath, that’s what you do.
The mirror on the wall shied away coz of that sight.
Dreaming to hold you in my arms. tight.
Dreaming to make this day..that night.

There are moments when you want the person just by your side.. when their affection shouldn’t be just heart-felt.. when you cease the words to do the talking and your eyes to stay open. This is for the missing-you-badly times. This is for the “togetherness to be realised” and materialised.

This one is to passion..in love!

रंजिशें

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हुई रंजिश, जला आशियाँ,
राहों से मेरी, जुदा तेरा मकां।
क़त्ल हुआ महफ़िल-ए-यार में,
दिल में दफ़न था, हाल-ए-बयां।

इस्तक़बाल था लबों पे तेरे, पर खुश्की थी.
सवालिया थी नज़र मेरी, नज़रों की कुश्ती थी.
लतीफ़ों के काफिले में मसरूफ तो थे दोनों,
पर ज़हन के एक कोने में, अनकही, अनसुनी..एक सिसकी थी.

रह रह कर रह गया, वो छूटा नहीं,
सपना हसीन वो, टूट कर भी टूटा नहीं.
होगा वो भी आलम, जब रंजिशें मिटा देगा तू,
इस काफिर के नशों से, तू भी तो अछूता नहीं.

This is when you know that the person is lost. The connection, the bonding, the TRUST is lost. Both of you have mutually lost each other. But, yet, it’s not over. Some call it a “baggage”, some call it “hope”. For me, it’s best left unsaid.

Grievances will find their way. And, so would affection and adorability.