Oinkey's eyes
they spell of surprise
of nights in canteens and everlasting sighs
They split their lids and
widen
with fang-toothed cries
of enthusiasm and
terribly excitingly methodically designed despise
They spell of shadows beneath lashes
that hide beneath whipped-up tinsel-town porches
and flickering light bulbs
that cast outlines
around figures
in the
dark.
I could long to see them intoxicated
feverish with hot evenings and cold coffees
dinner across the table
the orbs blinking
snapping wide open
enraptured,even
exactly the way they
intoxicate
me.
A love poem to Ankita Mukherjee,who owes me a dinner date.
And yet we sit here, at 2 AM, with cold sweetened chai and our lives ahead of us and beckoning,behind.
"Dare i disturb the Universe?" - T.S Eliot. From Here to There, perhaps into Nowhere. My words sunk inside the ink bottle of my world.
3 comments:
The poem is beautiful. I hate how you're so bloody good at this. Have you though of writing more poems on people?
*hint hint:)
Thanks.
and No.
Never.
Not until the sun goes down.
i will always love you for this poem.
Thank you billi.
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