.

The angel looks down at me,

Her breathing loud in my ears.

My heartbeats louder.

Cradling  my head in her arms,

Her eyes plunge into the depths of my soul.

Absorbing, feeding on the love she sees in there.

A sharp intake of breath,

She comes to me again.

Our bodies meet, creating a rhythm,

A divine dance of joy,

Of ecstasy, of love.

The angel looks down at me.

The angel looks down at me.

Her hair, black waterfalls,

Cascade down her shoulders, onto mine,

Encasing our heads in their own little world,

Where all I see are her eyes, all she sees are mine

And all that move are our lips

So engrossed in their speechless banter.

 The angel looks down at me.

Beads of sweat, like drops of dew, on her back

Wet the tips of my fingers,

Burning them.

I give in to their persuasions,

The dew-drops are on my lips.

I take in the nectar, like a wanderer in a desert,

‘cause she is my oasis,

My safest place to hide, my refuge.

In her lies my liberation.

She is my zahir.

She is nirvana.

The angel looks down at me.

Her warm breath, mingles with mine,

Forms a melody, likes of which never before been heard.

The music is in her lips, the music is in her eyes.

Its in the beating of her heart, the throbbing of her neck.

It engulfs me in my entirety.

The surface beneath gives way.

I drop into an infinite chasm.

Shimmering stars grow into a blinding flash.

The music reaches a roaring crescendo.

 A shudder courses through my body,

Intoxicaton pumps through my veins,

As the dance grows wilder.

Like a giant wave breaking upon a rock,

I destroy myself in this downpour of love.

Pieces to bits, ashes to dust,

I lose myself to her will,

‘cause she is my goddess.

I open my eyes to see that hers are closed.

-Devraj

Winter

“Deal with it!”, she said and left. He didn’t even look as she walked away. The darkness enveloped her beautiful form as she faded out- his angel or an evil fairy. Maybe beyond the veil of darkness the nether regions opened up to swallow her in, maybe not. He didn’t look. He didn’t need to. He saw enough of her already. In dreams, in visions that shook his existence to its core, in idle thoughts, his repeatedly revised imaginations of what must have been-each more terrifying than the previous. “Deal with it!” The words resounded in his head, as if the living world around him had absorbed its meaning just then and was feeding it back to him. Easy to say. But to him it only added to the bad memories that he already had of the things that had been spoken by her pretty mouth. The mouth that had also given him all that he had to live for. The feel of which on his lips.......but it hurt too much to think of that right now. Strange how the very thing that makes your life worth living is also the thing that makes you want to die. And not any violent or sudden ‘DEATH’-no getting shot in the head, or jumping off a roof; that would be too sudden. He wouldn’t have any time to rewind and replay his life, between the time he initiated the act and the time it reached its conclusion. Slow and painful deaths like poison, or disease, or strangulation weren’t good options either. Because then he would have ample time and reflecting back on his life, and of their happier moments together would make him want to reverse the process. What he wanted was to just fade away. Slowly, and unintentionally-like a piece of dry ice. He wanted to turn into a ghost, become a part of the darkness, something that could stick to the ceiling and sleep within floors. He wanted to take on the identity of whatever he came into contact with. He wanted to whither, and evaporate.

The street lamps burned with all their ferocity, their harsh amberness doing its utmost to stave off the darkness rushing up at him from all sides, and from within. And although he was thankful to their valiant efforts, the idea of getting crushed by the darkness wasn’t too undesirable, and even welcomed. Maybe if he let it happen, that would wipe out all emotions, and leave him without hurt and pain. But then he wanted to be able to love too. She deserved to be loved, and cared for, and hurt. Maybe if it just wiped out all his memories, barring the good ones, but he didn’t figure it worked that ways. He raised his head and dared a glance in the direction in which she had gone. She wasn’t there, just lesser mortals, flitting around, too engaged in their own mundane lives and bonds and problems. Somewhere in the background, two nubile bodies were meeting, in a dance of passion, expressing for each other what their mouths could not say. At that moment, a guttural roar arose from his soul, his very depths. The moon seemed to descend low, spreading its unearthly light all around. He hoped she could hear him. He hoped she knew how he suffered, so that she would suffer too. Yes he hoped SHE suffered; for loving him so much, for making him her only light in the darkness, for holding his hand when he was weak, for guiding him through when he was lost. For these sins, she must have pain, the way he was having it. He wanted to hold her in a tight embrace, and make love to her as the fires of hell swallowed them both, consuming and feasting on them and their love till they were both just halves in a whole.

The cold made him shudder. He smiled and walked away; he didn’t want to fall ill.