To stop this yearning,
as it overflows,
I hold my moans,
in a room full of people.
It’s a meeting
people are bored,
and your tongue is unmoved
for I hold my moans.
Beneath the desk,
you keep swallowing,
quenching your thirst
licking at the tips
even the end of balls.
I feel your breasts
caressing it,
flowing with it.
The outpouring should be swallowed
unless and until
you can think of something else
that might be possible,
while you lay below my desk,
and totally wet.

© Shashank Bhardwaj.

In Warmth

With your laced clothing,
you resplend an aura
that smells of lust and raging whiskey,

the ice fed hands trace your fragile
and sensitive breasts, as you unhook your bra.
With my warm tongue, I lick the chocolate over your pointed nipples.
You caress your fingers with the water between your legs.

I tear away your black panties,
and I am sure you wished for the sooner of it.
I come inside you, inside us
as we tremble as terrified horses
riding in the storm, embracing and feasting
on one another.

Your hips turn warm,
The legs go tired,
we climax in each other arms
and wait to begin again,
in the sunlight, we escaped from.



Of wanting
and the reactions.

Of the tease
and the injunctions.

Of the touch
and the revulsions.

Of the kiss
and the deductions.

Of the stripping
and the seductions.

Of melting of naked bodies
and the inductions.

Of the aches and sweat
and the conclusions.

Of the slithering memories
and the destructions.

Of the possible repetition
and the needed constructions.

© Shashank Bhardwaj

Alliteration- III

Quantum of quivers queue quintessentially,
the rancor from the relishes reverberates with rage.
serenity seeps slowly into the sleep of sensuality:
as I tickle the tenacious thighs and think of tricks.

the universality of the urges shall not be undone.
the vagrancy within myself will end vividly.
our acts are now xeroxed, the near x-mas forgotten
the youthful yumminess of the yesteryear revisited.