Cruising Alone

  Boy, you need gold coins and chains, To feel that silky touch. Honey, being with you meant My soul needed a retouch... You might like maple syrup, But I could never build anything with that softwood. It was like babysitting way into my adulthood... You think your presence made it feel like Niagara? Boy, it was drier than the Sahara. Who gave you the license to operate heavy machinery? You never deserved to be anywhere near this sanctuary. Asking women to "blow" you a kiss, When you are the one too "slow" to catch up, And all you are good for is a diss... You need to work because you don't know how real FORCE  works. You get high on your stupid   WARS — How would you ever know the language of the STARS ? Isn't it funny you were trying to teach  me  about fingers? When I can get myself to sing more with my  ladyfingers ...

  Call your wife. Call your mother. Tell them how you talk to women like me when no one's watching— But of course, I'm the Outspoken B tch*, and you, the Outstanding Gentleman in your suit and tie. But sure— I’d rather be outclass than be hung like sea bass on your trophy wall, smiling silent while you call me “crass.” Your twisted kinks. Your polished lies. You think I won’t roar? That I’ll tuck in my shadow just to keep your sin safe? I own my dark. Loud. Proud. You will not cage me with your guilt-laced chains. If you were so happy choosing her over me, Then go flirt with her . Not me. Don’t you dare come here with your diluted apologies and leftover lust. I’d rather be The villain in your story Than your sidepiece in silence. Because I remember— You were a playboy then , You’re still a playboy now , And every time you smile and say “We’re still friends”… God, I puke a little. You know your name. Don’t play lost boy. Don’t hide behind your “Good intentions.” I used to care...

  Baby, I am no Snow White, I am hardly fairest of them all. You can try your best to take my kingdom, And have me take a fall. I am not afraid to crawl through a sewage pipe, Give and take 500 yards— And still rise to the top, No matter how much you fumble up with my dealt cards. You can drench that tasty treat, And act as if you had me beat. But if you try to poison me, I will spit it right back on your face— Because I walk my own road, Not a rat like you, Who tried to play me and then said I am stuck in a maze. You are no one's charming prince, Let everyone see you wince. The fact you said you'd rather be with a dumb one, That you are happy you dodged an effing c*nt... That you would rather climb someone tall, And that I am only a runt... If that's true, Go ahead and do a witch hunt. Because you can try— But I rise from ashes, No matter how much I am burnt.

  Wandering through orchards, tasting the sun, Searching for the ripest berry—just for fun. You stroll alone in this earthly Eden, Yet blame every Eve for what was forbidden. Can you even find the way to that cherry, Hidden deep in the fruit of the loom? Or do you still believe only the serpent Knows the routes to diabolical bloom? Not every Eve is misguided by the deceitful viper, She dances to the tunes of her inner piper. She goes on her own quest, no need to impress, Finding the cherry to savor from that sacred chest.

  You may think you broke me with all the cruel words you spoke, but I have always been a Peacock. I leave those love-colored iridescent tokens everywhere I go. Everyone treasures them and makes them forever keepsakes, even if some of you would love to see me burn on stakes. And you may think you made me cry... but I am a Peacock—I thrive in those downpours... You went around lecturing me to focus on simple chores... while you were trying to grind for those plastic crores... But even the Goddess Lakshmi is often symbolized by a Peacock by her side... and even my name means Gold, and you dared to call me a gold digger... So, while you work in stealth, I am the source of never-ending wealth... Because I am a Peacock... A few have explicitly told me that would like to taste my muffins and cakes... But I am like those rare porcelain sets— not for folks like you with your ridiculous schemes and tests. And I am sure your binary brain would go "but Peacock is manly..." True... becau...

  You might crave your new woman’s touch, long for her embrace like a cherished clutch— but I have wanted to self-immolate because of your touch. Run around, claim you’ve won a jackpot , but it’s not rejection I fear— it’s your filthy gaze, your uninvited touch . You said you were being cruel to be kind? I’d love to press rewind. You begged for my love first, but now you chase another— just hunger, no soul. I know how it feels to be touched without permission . Yet, you—relentless—pressed me to submit, to erase my no as if it never existed. While you laughed, busy painting me as a rejected soul, I spent nights undoing every single touch . So go ahead, call me vile— but even after all that, I was good to you.

  So, you want to make me feel like a woman? Want to make it worth my while? Is that why you got that degree? Well, then you should know, That I am worth more than just a trophy. "But I am attracted to you" Why should I care? When I said I don’t crave you Or feel safe with you. The love I give is a treasure, And it is not for fleeting moments of pleasure... Why would I care if you only care for this body And try to buy me things that are way too gaudy... No matter how much you see me in your dreams Or want to taste that eternal stream... Go on and wonder about that cream, But I will always be a dream. I don’t need you to make me feel like a woman... I’d rather be a legend, untamed and uncommon.

  Dancing under the moonlight, silky rose petals caressing my skin, seeing the reflection of sculpted form in the silver-glazed quartz. Engulfed in lavender smoke, there is only room for moans— not ugly cries. Who says I deserve love? I am Love. Fingers tracing all my curves, as if just learning to ride waves and surf. My lips, matching the shades of a rose, my eyes beaming bright— like pearly sea shells under the starry night. Who says I deserve love? I am Love. The silky tresses fall over my face, dew drops linger on my chin and lips, my torso covered in sacred oils, like a sculptor working hard to make his muse stand out. Who says I deserve love? I am Love.

  Boohoo to your pity, I can't believe that your name means being virtuous to a certain degree. I can't believe I was so tired of creeps, that I was like whatever let it be. Seriously, the guy who was flaunting about sleeping with two naked women in dreams and I am the one who has lost it seems. Does she know you were bragging about the taste of her cookie? My true colours? Maybe this would make your face shine crimson red. I am weird? Boy, I shine with or without that blush. I am not that woman who ever wants your money, go pander to people who wanted to be your friend because your name was higher on that coder list. You think I was calculating to be your friend? I simply decided to be your friend. You think I couldn't see through the ways you were testing me? To see if I am a gold digger or if I can solve the question of tree. I do not talk in binary. Asking me if I can Google the term "Eat You." Fake? I was simply happy that you had less money as a kid and coul...

  You teach us the divinity of temple grounds, The sacredness past the mortal bounds. You explain how "Pran Pratishta" is done in those stone moulds, And how it feels closer to the divine home. Yet you often forget this body is my temple too, My soul lives between these skin and bones too. You go to war if they disintegrate or ruin it, And energy released is painful. Then why do you say I am dramatic? Who will fight my war? I never said I am God, But am I not a creation of that divine thought? Then why can't I weep for how they touched me with their lust? Why am I called names for my rightful outbursts? You teach me in detail about the sacred grounds, But forget that I am as much a part of it. You love adorning them with flowers and jewels, When I put on makeup and adorn myself with silver and gold, Why must it be seen as vanity, not a reflection of my soul? You bow down in temples and ask for abundance, But hurt my very soul. The others might have looted this land and ma...

  You crave a woman's touch, You crave a lover's skin brush, Yet you never adore or respect her, All you do is lust over her. You lecture on love, As though you understand its depth, But you disrespect her very existence, Then pretend you know its breadth. You call it a genuine connection, But it's just a disguise for your desire, Hiding behind words, masking the truth, A hunger that only feeds your fire. You speak of need and long for her grace, But what you want is to take, Not to cherish or honour, Just a feast to partake. You don’t see her as a woman to adore, Only a prize to be won, And in the end, you're the one to destroy, What could’ve been, what should have been spun. You pretend to be “the nice guy,” But you’ll never treat her right, You want her to be your conquest, Not your equal in the light. So stop calling it love, Stop calling it connection, When you only see her as a reflection Of your animalistic obsession.

  I never understand it, Why people are so afraid of letting me shine, As if I stole something from them and made it mine. They’d rather have me stay small, Than proudly cheer when I stand tall. I’ve seen this on repeat, Ever since I was born, As if I took something of theirs, Snatched it and made my throne. People won’t tell me things— What if I win? As if I was forcefully put in this skin. I’ve rarely seen people truly appreciate me at all, Yet I’ve seen them try to pull me down in a group, But one-on-one, they’re trying to win my affection, And then label me with duplicitous intentions. They may be sad if I die, But often make sure I never fully thrive. So, I go on and hide, Enjoying all my sides.

I always have a target on my back, Asked to shrink, to dim, to turn the lack. When I shine, I see the frown — it’s clear, "Can you hold back your victories, my dear?" "Hey, don’t talk to him, please, I get so jealous, When you laugh with the one who caught my eye, he’s precious." Yeah, I’m not the one trying to steal anyone’s man, I crave deeper talks, in truth, that’s my plan. Behind my back, the plots will unfold, I once thought they were real, but their hearts turned cold. I compliment those who shine, with no agenda, just praise, I believe in lifting others, not in petty games or praise. Why would I take what belongs to another? What’s theirs is theirs, I have no need to smother. I was never trying to be "great"—you can quote me on that, I’ve always wondered if maybe you’re better at that. Still, you think I’d ever envy what you hold, The boy who crushed my ego, yet I remain bold. Please, stay with her, she’s lovely, I know, Does she know you paraded h...

Have you ever paused to marvel at your reflection—not through mirrored eyes, but with the wonder of love-struck skies? To be star-struck by the essence of your being—the curves of your own landscape, the wild elegance of hair that dances across your face? This poem is a celebration of self-love, of seeing oneself not as an unfinished canvas but as a masterpiece worthy of adoration. It reminds us that we are as much a work of art as anything we create with our hands and that before anyone else, we owe ourselves the love and reverence we so deeply deserve. Wanna make love to you... Yeah, wanna make love to you... Tired of seeing through mirrored eyes, Craving the gaze of love-struck skies. Glide fingers on that caramel skin, Play symphonies as if a velvety violin. Lose way in the maze of silky wavy locks— Not confined to a predefined box. Not scared to scale those mountain ranges, Find the fountain of youth in those trenches. Make the valleys feel the quake, Not leaving it still like a q...