Author: poetryfest

Peeled back, the black lace on your thighs,
Pink silk sheets and Born To Die echoing off mist-kissed windows.

Fistfuls of soft onyx strands twist in my grip,
Cognac-laced lips speak sweet meaningful nothings.

Hopeful breaths mixed with astonishment,
Moist words sneak through clenched teeth.

Opaque whispers crawl along the bassline,
Reverberating, getting stronger in the silence.

Flickers of tangerine candlelight tiptoe across your shoulders.

The two laid on their backs, looking up at the night sky atop a shed’s roof. She turned her head to look at him.
“Is that pizza place open?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“Do you want pizza?”
“Do you?” she shot back.
“Why did you bring up pizza?” he teased.
She most definitely wanted pizza. He most definitely didn’t care what she wanted or where she wanted to go. He’d take her.

The sun was hot upon the dusty ground
Where knights in metal dress contended for
The hand of maiden fair. One would be crowned
Her prince. And yet, the princess did abhor
Dull competition and these games of war.
But then she met a knight who who made her grin,
With whom she found a startling rapport
For they were both constrained by fortune’s whim:
The shining armour masked a girl therein.
A feeling grew within the maiden’s soul,
A flutt’ry, trembly tumult deep within,
A spark becoming flame out of control.
And when her knight had triumphed, tourney done,
The princess also felt as though she’d won.

Cliché to say your eyes
But I stare into Caribbean oceans at sunrise
I feel each forehead kiss
gentle silent lips

I feel the silky skin of your shoulder on my cheek,
you caress it like misty rain.
You pull the blanket over me when you get up
pure passion’s kiss, that says I’ll miss you at work.
And that I’m enough.

You hand me a hot mug and pour me cereal.
I sit, and we laugh at reels.
Exploding with laughter, till our lungs almost break.
I learned that love is not give or take.

You tickle me until we lay on the ground,
Surround me with your arms.
I don’t mind being disarmed around you
This loving comfort I never knew existed.

You don’t seem to mind
How things slip my memory
How sometimes my mind gets to me.
You hold me the way the ocean holds the sand.
I don’t always understand,
You love me anyway.
Whisper “it’s all gonna be okay”.
So I lay here.

I daydream in memories of romance
and the ones that make me talk too loud.
I’m proud, grateful, for the lines we test.
For my best friend.
The gentle dances, the singing car rides.
Because of you, every day gets to be a surprise.

You hold me, gently,
Calm the raging storm inside me.
Melt my fiercest thoughts.
I forgot about the knots in my hair,
But I don’t mind when you play with it to show you care.

I trace the lines on your palm, interlace my fingers
with your working man hands.
I make plans.
And treasure the beautiful now.

The now,
embraces that
I never want to push you away.
“it’s all gonna be okay”.
I finally believe you will stay.
Maybe it is going to be okay

You made the first move,
I admit. But may I?—I never

considered that a question.
Now I pantomime a nod

and a kiss, and all my jokes—
I use them like little tents.

A pipe could burst somewhere important. It could cause our floors to swell,
or make the ceiling drizzle onto our decadelong accrual of bargain bin albums,
and still, all I’d care about is how we can make our chocolate linguine tonight.
A half night of sleep lost over what to pair with our gorgonzola cream sauce,
over the wasted handful of parsley you snipped from the stalk just yesterday.
I’d cringe at the memory of clinking forks, even if they are swallowed up by the sound of distant fireworks. Or the tenor saxophone being played amidst the smattering of food trucks under the downtown pavilion. Or the umpire’s calling of ball four on the home team pitcher just before the phone rings in the bull pen.
The crown molding would sweat, and the wallpaper would curl, long before I’d ever speak lamentations of the morning sun slants or the headless streetlights. I’d sooner swish and swallow the dew like a sip of our finest bottle of Kentucky Proud Cabernet.
Our lights would flicker like a first kiss, like eyelids, like lips colliding in a dorm room, like hot to the touch and prickly. And I’d think,
maybe we could get a last-minute reservation at the Italian joint, and maybe if we showed the hostess our warped Billy Joel sleeve, she could squeeze us in anyway.
We’d be knee deep in our unintended new pool, and my toes would still find yours, and we’d go fishing for the stock pot and diving for the strainer. And I’d have just enough time to ask about your brother’s new girlfriend when the waves come rushing in, relentless and heavy, and sweep us clear down the stairs.
We would ebb along, bounce like buoys against white caps, and you’d tell me she’s fine, if not a little immature for her age.

You are special to me,
but not special in the way that you think,
I don’t believe you hung the moon and stars,
but when I look at you I will myself not to blink.

Because I don’t want to lose a single second,
of memorizing your features,
If I could stare at you forever it would not be enough,
and I’m not saying that because we are stupid teenagers.

But because you are special to me,
and not just special in your face,
though it feels like God spent extra time carving that,
just by existing you have become my safe space.

A place to be myself,
never have to pretend for even a second,
to be somebody I’m not,
and just for that, in my mind you are a legend.

Your voice soothes something in my soul,
that my mind could not ever comprehend,
my dreams are always filled with thoughts of us together,
even if for now it’s just pretend

You are special to me,
special in a different way,
the way that knows there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you,
and I hope you know I am here for you at any time of any day.

There is never an end to conversations with you,
and I don’t ever want that to change,
there’s never a time I don’t want to talk to you,
I could yap for hours you still wouldn’t think I’m strange.

No, you still look at me with that same look in your eyes,
the one that hasn’t changed from the start,
the look that says “some day I will marry you”,
the one I have memorized and lives rent-free in my heart.

You are so special to me,
more special than words could explain,
the kind of special that no matter how hard I tried,
I know I won’t ever find the same again.

But that doesn’t matter,
because I am not letting you go,
through thick and thin remember,
we pinky-promised and those are unbreakable you know.

Special is such a simple word,
but I can’t think of another,
because English has not yet come up with a word,
to describe how much more I feel for you than I do for any other.

So I’ll stick to calling you special,
and hope you know that you are much more than that.
You are so special to me,
that I would leave everything to be with you at the drop of a hat.

And that’s kind of terrifying,
but exciting all the same,
because I know you would do the exact same for me,
no matter what time that call came.

You are more than just special to me,
and I think you already know that,
but you should also know that you will always be special to me,
nothing and no one could ever change that fact.

-Diya Nettikadan 2024/07/28.

Play that song for me
The one we heard dodging cars on the highway
It sounded like brake lights and low beams
Choking on exhaust plumes and picking kicked up gravel from your hair
Surrounded by a symphony of a city
I sang a serenade in an off key harmony
And you danced like a lamb freshly fallen from the womb
The audience laughed in whispers and the streetlights spotlit our encore

A boxer without gloves
who dreams to get out of the ring
to get some sun.
I did not want to fight against you
and knock you out.
You and your lover.

Why did you want to arrange this match?

You know I never cared
about times, half-times,
intercostal pain,
the belly and its line…
Never cared
about the yelling crowd either.

I just wanted to go out,
to get an ice-cream somewhere,
with you,
in the sun.

I was fourteen years old when I met you;
Then sixteen years old when I fell
fast into Willie Nelson, music you could live in.
There are a lot of things that teach you to be in love:
Denver’s Mile High Market with
the open western sky: America.

It was a long drive when
we piled into the Jeep and you
whisked me off to where you were
from. It only took twelve
minutes to make me want years
in this house: dusty and old.