Messy Woman

She loves complicated love

Messy woman 

You just love the mess, don’t you? 

You don’t follow a pattern 

you love chaos, bumpy ride

fluctuations and instability. 

You love complexities 

and complicate love. 

World says complicated things are horrifying 

but to me, you complicated woman 

you are fascinating.


Though you are not so easy, 

you beautiful mystery. 

You turn love into puzzle 

but you are definitely worth the trouble.

You make my mind work 

as love is some work 

demanding love maintenance    

creating adventurous love story. 


For others you may be unpleasant 

they may call you ordinary 

but to me you are toxic yet addictive 

just like morphine 

you my endorphin. 

You are my loose t-shirt and shorts 

that i can wear anytime assured.


To tell you the truth 

it might be horrifying to be back with others 

then to be back together with you. 

Nah, there ain’t any question of self-esteem 

it’s not only I coming back to you 

it’s also you coming back to me.


I know it is hard to love you, 

harder at times to understand.

You do make beautiful memories bitter 

but that creates in me interest. 

You are no less than a story 

that is easy to read and hard to understand. 


Complicated woman

You are messy, you want to be messy 

so lets set out to make a messier love story. 


© Kumar Gautam

Photo courtesy:

Dusk Of Our Love

Burnt Love

I am not a chandler 

but I picked up the hobby of making candles

as you walked in my life. 

We together made our first candle

colourful, aromatic 

and light it up. 

Today first thing in the morning 

I went to see the candle

‘It must be emitting  light’,

symbolising our love eternal. 

Alas, it had already breathed last. 

Leftover wax covered in soot 

was around to be seen.

The aroma could still be felt

on stressing olfactory nerves

but the wick had turned into ashes.

I realised, how funny it is! 

We beautified candle but forgot to strengthen the wick!

This morning was dawn to the world 

and dusk of our     

love story that was not to be named. 


© Kumar Gautam

Photo courtesy:

Hiding in Coffin

Hiding in Coffin

Frozen, protected and stored

living I am…

Scared of being spent.

I quarantine and nourish my thoughts properly

to use it for my benefit.

When time will travel,

and miracles will happen

then I will not talk

the language of my thoughts would be harnessed

decoded for the betterment of civilization.

At the helm would be I, the human.

© Kumar Gautam

Photo credit:

The Last Colour

The Last Colour


Are you crying?

I can hear you out…

Though you are, I assume, light years away.

It isn’t a surprise

as your soul that usually slides on my heart

warms my soul

had moistened all within

and I could feel heaviness in my chest.


Darkness may have engulfed you

enslaved you to its norms and comforts

just remember life’s wonder,

ordinary may see several colours around

but life has only one colour.

Call it the first colour or the last colour,

but that’s the only colour

nature calls it hope.


From sun to Vatican City’s pope,

all colour their life with hope.

Saying nothing means,

Saying all sometimes.

Life gives ample scope.

let’s ashen the dark

and let it abandon in winds of changing times


Let’s make the sunrise

Peach orange rose

like a toddler’s smile

rub on each other’s soul.

Let not the volcano turn extinct or dormant.

Wake again

to be like sun, active like volcano and sleep like moon.

Let the fortune flex and time be in your control

even if our bodies don’t meet

communications must flow.


© Kumar Gautam

Photo courtesy: 500px Photo ID: 125173183

Can I Kiss You

Can I Kiss You

My man

I like the gentleman in you

but next time don’t you ask

“can I kiss you?”

It’s silly.


I am modern

but when it comes to kissing

I am still old-fashioned.

You have to initiate this bit.

Don’t ask me,

just make a move,

pucker your lips and kiss.


I know you are such a cutie

that you are unable to read my mind.

Just look for signs when I look at you.

Watch me close when I giggle, blush and smile.

Check the moment when I snuggle

or when the damn hairs are on my face.

I don’t mind you moving them away,

that moment just dig in my eyes,

zone in lips and kiss.


Boy, you are charming and handsome.

You dazzle with confidence.

Your presence and I am dazed.

Just do it for one heck.

Let my blood pressure elevate and pulse race.

I will close my eyes while you can watch me relax.

Kiss me before it’s too late.

Just kiss me.


© Kumar Gautam

Photo credit: 500px

I am an Alcoholic

Confessions of an alcoholic


I am an alcoholic.

My association with alcohol

began like an innocent experiment.

Today, social activity to me means alcohol.

My definition of ‘happy life’ is

alcohol at night to make me sleep

and a drink in the morning to wake me up.


Alcohol has given me friends,

many friends.

My list of friends is never ending.

It increases as I slosh another drink.

I have build connections,

expanded business.

My life is constellation of LED lights

wait a minute, there’s a twist in my ‘spirit-ed’ tale.


Alcohol is my only friend

Like a PR personnel it manages my brain.

Sympathy has fizzed.

Emotions have diluted.

Cynicism has over taken.

And ‘boss’ I am always right.

Screw you all, I am always right.


Dude! Let me confess…


I often find myself disconnected.

Three voices echo within me at a time –

alcoholic voice, my numb me voice and voice of my soul.

My soul acts loner;

rarely talks,

behaves dumb.

My body hates it as if it is an enemy.

My alcohol possessed mind thinks of it as beast.

Yes, my soul has turned beast.

I ain’t anymore me.

I have turned – he, she, they.

I am crowd and alcohol makes me feel I am THE.



Binge drinking,

Bringing shame upon,



struggle to exist,

aren’t acts of heroism.

For a person like me,

who is known to be sober otherwise.


It’s a fool’s paradise

We drink to drink

And later drink sinks.

The bout continues,

drink-sink, sink-drink, sink-sink.


So you wanna be real cool!

Sink not rise,

rise to drink.

There’s enough to drink around

Drink and suck all illusion, fiction, hypothesis.

Sense the real cool quotient,

the euphoria.

Be the real different one.

Be the real cool.

Dude, enough being ridiculed.  


© Kumar Gautam