Dont touch me !

​Don’t touch me if the curves of my heart dont excite you like those of my body.
Don’t touch me if the bare  dirty uncouth feet of mine is something you cannot take.

Don’t touch me if you don’t find the hair on my skin as beautiful as those on my scalp.

Don’t touch me if my sweaty neck is not as alluring as my bare back.

Don’t touch me if the stain on my pants will make  you cringe and not love .

And don’t you dare touch me to curb my curves.

Touch me if you can like the wings touch the birds.

Touch me if you can to embrace my scars, like the sky touches the stars. 

Touch me if you can like the rain touches the mud.

And touch me if you can like the  canvas touches  a brush.

And if you can’t  , then don’t touch me at all.


Messy orderliness

Just like in life, order becomes mundane without mess to adorn it.                                 Chaos embelishes symmetry breaking the monotony.                                                        Its just the camera like perpective from a little distance that we all need , to set things just right.

Coffee Connotations

​In different forms on every table, 
I see how a new story begins to initiate. 

As i sit  on one  of them confiding mine inside the latte coffee by my side,

and a drawing pad trying to doodle something fine. 

In front of me is a bunch of chirpy friends who seem to have met after long,

In this sprinting world whats better than a coffee to cherish their bond.

And there in the corner sits a seemingly a  fledging couple,

Fiddling with each other’s feet with every sip they take.

And just next to their table is a young girl telling the tale of her breakup to her friend,   for her scars seem to crop up with this aroma in the air which is equally bitter as it is sweet much like the life we breathe.

And i see there the  aromas  of love and heart break in  coffee blend.

Just next to them is a women middle aged

Her experiences clear enough  by the wrinkles on her face.

Savouring  the cappicino she had  ordered as if  each other’s  strenghth  they both embrace.

And in another corner is a guy with his ambitious eyes glued to his laptop’s screen   drinking his cold coffee with brewing dreams 

As i turn i see a little girl with tainted  clothes but a face too cute to ignore   staring through the glasses looking with earnesty to this world beyond her reach 

I count the cash in my wallet and decide to bring her inside 

 and offering her a seat i order a coldcoffee and sandwitch hoping it will suffice  

And as she finishes with that content on her tiredface and the happiness in her much longed eyes i bid her good bye

and finally end my doodle with a line 

Coffee isnt just coffee for its a feeling  , a prologue to new stories , to new endings 

That we all  need to discover for our own selves . Cheers !