My roots are baked, 

some of my roots are burned, 

you have never known that. 

You never knew how every night I have wasted my immunity from celestial thirsts, 

how every night I waited to sink in your water. 

I can’t remember the last time we saw each other naked, 

the last time we brought nights in our eyes and made ourselves a romantic madness. 

We just drink now…

You drink something of unknown colour and listen sarangi…that’s your style, 

that’s your escape. 

But I just drink whiskey here…and I never wanted to escape from you…

Your shadows…my shadows, a creep. 

I don’t have that desire to climb your stairways anymore…

I know where they goes, I know that obscurity, 

I know those fires inside your womb…

I say, babe…let’s leave each other like ephemeral lovers. 

We will meet on a forgotten shore someday with spilled hair and mopped eyes.

……………………………………………………………………

Painting: Paul Klee.