Baby With The Right One

When you have his baby,

Always remember how he paraded your "sexy" body,
Like you were his goddamn property.
But I stood up for you,
Even without knowing your story.

Because that man has no spine,

He’d brag about how he made me whine,
How he dimmed my shine,
Puffed up with pride,
Claiming he’s the only one touched by the divine.

He’d mock my belief in something deeper,

Sneer at my refusal to measure worth in the shallow,
Calling me irrational,
Just because I wouldn’t rate people along the hollow.

But I see you,

Caught in his games,
A pawn for his claims,
And I hope one day you’ll know—
That I spoke for you,
Because I saw what he’d do.

Not for pity, not for revenge,

But because I’ve learned to stand tall in this storm.
And while he’ll claim divine favour,
The truth is simple—
He never even deserved a glimpse of your form.

So when you cradle that baby,

Knowing this truth I softly hum:
You were meant for love,
But maybe,
Not with this one.

Comments

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Polished Sins

A suit and tie, that polished smile, Covering up sins stacked mile by mile. They flaunt “new love,” someone else’s child— A ready-made story, perfectly styled. They’ve “levelled up,” or so they preach, But on someone’s pain, they made their reach, With vows of loyalty, words so neat, While another’s screams lie beneath their feet. Oh, they “moved on” to brighter skies, Leaving someone broken, with silent cries. They mount new heights, they shout and boast— Scaling peaks on another's haunted ghost. So smile for the camera, flash your pride, Show off the life that you tried to hide. For we know the truth beneath your gleam— A hollow show, a self-made scheme.

Till You Sing

Some would say men went to war for women like you, But I would still choose war if it meant choosing you. You say you write in amorous lines, But I would let you be the woman of my tribe. You had your adventures Under The Buda Moon, But have you been loved past noon? So I can see you shine like a magical flower, In the quiet warmth of the golden hour. The invisible strings pull at my heart Can I do justice to your name? Caress you right, Till you sing like a Carnatic hymn. Inspired by the author of Under The Buda Moon, Veena Rao

Cruising Alone

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