The universe puts
Two friends in a room
Rolls a joint
Makes them smoke it
Soon he starts to sing
And she laughs
languishing on the bed.
He lies beside her
As they always do.
He touches her body
Trails his finger on her arms,
Her legs, then up to her hair.
He makes up a song as he goes along
It makes them both laugh
But suddenly he is over her
As he sometimes does
At a home they share
It’s nothing new
But today she sees that
He has perfect lips
And a face to die for
She laughs at the cliché.
His eyes darken.
Hers shift.
She makes a joke of it.
Oedipus Rex.
She stutters the play.
They laugh.
He knows the game.
They have that connection.
They can have entire conversations
Without any context.
And still understand each other.
‘No. The wicked zamindar.
Who always has his way
With the nubile village lass.’
They laugh some more.
He moves away
And she misses his warmth.
It’s a cold room.
There’s no heater.
She siddles in again next to him
Just for the heat, she tells herself.
It’s her right.
He is her own joy come to life.
He fists her hair hard
‘Too violent’, he says
Loosening the grip.
But she enjoys it.
They have been violent before.
They have played scrapping siblings too.
He snorts a laugh and sprays her hand
She goes ‘Ewww…’
And rubs her hand
Against his clothes, his chest.
He arrests her hand and licks her palm.
She cries in protest, laughing.
They are children at play
The universe makes them play
A very adult game.
He traps her hand between his
He holds her by the waist
And sings his made up song
They laugh anew.
They have smoked potent stuff
The best money and friendship can buy.
‘What are you doing?’ she asks drunkenly
As his hands trail down her body.
‘I am not touching this’ he says
Pointing to her breasts
‘And I am not touching this’ he says
A finger hovering around her vagina.
She holds her breath
Releases it on a laugh
As he warms his hand
Between her burning thighs
‘So hot’ he says.
‘Go sleep on the other bed,
you are so hot.’
‘Only there’, she protests
And places her frozen fingers
On his neck.
‘Ugh.’ He pulls at her hair again.
Her face lifts off the pillow
Her breath fans his face.
They are children.
They lock eyes.
Their lips are close.
Too close for this game.
They wait a heartbeat
They wait an eternity.
They hover around a kiss.
‘Sleep on the other bed’ he says,
Impatient, suddenly angry.
‘I am hungry’, she wails,
A demanding little girl.
He offers her a chocolate
And puts it in his mouth.
‘Take’ he says.
She pouts and rummages
For her own chocolate bar.
‘Does he want me to kiss him?’
She dismisses all her instincts.
Are you horny?
She asks herself instead.
She proudly fishes out a large chocolate bar
Refuses to share it with him.
They pretend to be children.
They pretend like only adults can.
They bury away the awareness
They bury away this memory
And never speak of it again.
He finds a way
to blame her,
to hate her,
to stay away from her.
She doubts herself.
And in the doubting,
loses herself.
That kiss they never share
Changes the course
Of the entire universe.

About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
This entry was posted in Blue Funk, Intoxication Induced. Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to Kiss

  1. This is so beautiful..


  2. Ch4 says:

    Life would have been so much simpler if they’d just kissed.


  3. pankajsaini says:

    As I read it again, I was rooting for them to kiss, going ‘it’s going to happen anytime now’, you had me so convinced. And equally shattered when the foreplay built up didn’t lead to the kiss. What a tragedy. It’s tough to make your readers go through this flux of emotions with such a few lucid lines and you’ve done it superbly. Wonderful. 🙂


  4. Wow, this just outstanding
    Wonderful words, very well written
    I could imagine the whole scape while reading.



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