Raadha, an early encounter

The juices that wet the bilabials of her vulva
Brings her to life, sets me on fire.
As water nourishes the waiting earth,
I hunger after the wetness
As erection permits me to bend.

Her eye are closed, and her moanful rhythm
Calls to attention all lust
That assembles in each atom.
Her fingers of one hand crouch to a fist,
And the other holds firm my hair, in zest.

Raadha, I have had you, against all odds.
The tip of this hole that I burrow into
Is as far as the dreams of the world would get.
Tonight, I enter deep into you,
And you have made it my right.

The father that looked after you died, Raadha.
And now you are alone and you make
The choices that women must make.
Coyly you have let me in, against all your father’s teaching
And you have made me your master, spreading it out for me to have.

So, my lips rustling the side of your neck,
My weight pinning you down,
My hands possessive of the abundant flesh of your boobs,
I enter you, a heavy sodden root deep into earth,
As I release myself in you, making you mine.

1

Advertisements

Raadha, having tea with

The urge is too real, Raadha,
To tell the world who you are —
To admit to you that it aches inside not to
Take you, to rip your clothes,
To meet your yearning eyes with mine and to
Slide it deep inside. And to push it an inch more,
To inhale your sigh.

While we sit taking our sugared tea,
The silences intervening.
Your eyes – there is a tension which I
Think is the half-hearted call of the
Desired, still wavering.

But, only if I could tell you,
That the only tea I need is brewed in you,
That is need not be sugared, that it
Need not be as thick as this: that
There’s only one plunge I have in mind

As we make the smallest talk
On irrelevancies and topics that
This tension cannot bear.

1