Akhil S Behl

Rounded willow
Like an elephant's trunk
roots
my lonely feet.
...

So what becomes of you, my love,
when mayhem blooms
to the swollen zenith?
...

All those mornings
i woke up
with your heart,
and dead throbs,
...

One star lit night on the terrace
off a star lit sky
my soul caught
the gold
...

Olden sediments, from the first mornings,
Baked into hues, green n blue,
O'er yonder, by the parent sun,
Have bloomed again.
...

Do not tell me
Of truth men tell.

Of love so the same
...

Tonight I hate the world,


Tonight,
...

The arch of a mellowed pain

in a yellow breast;
...

Oh, thou woman of dark flesh
of swaying hips
and dancing feet
thou tempt me
...