I have never felt
A world unlock
Within the portals of a petite salle
Purple walls and ochre drapes.
Your uninhibited smiles,
My fumbling words
Broken sentences strung with unfamiliar adage.

I don’t remember much,
For it was all overtaken by a haze
I recall the sound, though,
Of the gurgling in glass
And gulps, downed in haste.
Of loud music which drew patterns in
My brain, words and tunes
Incoherent, blurred,
Lorca, stirred in Zeppelin’s wake –
A palette of myriad shades.

I don’t remember much,
But I remember your quivering eyes;
My feet up your chair,
Your careless touch on my wrist
Hitherto sending currents
Tiny sparks of lightening, down my veins.
Strangely gregarious,
Defying transcendental strains.

I don’t remember much,
Except how evening fell, with the
Room, swimming in the cracks of my head
I could have consumed you,
Had I followed my baser instinct;
Tasted the liquor,
Peppered with your breath.

I don’t remember much,
Except us sitting by the bed;
You, lost in translation
Me, creating impractical fables in my head,
Sewn with shreds of melodies

21 March 2016


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