Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

I wish I had taken my chance,
Leapt into your eyes moist and open for once,
On that sultry suffocating Calcutta noon,
And Lost my self in your being for good.
Travelled with you to your home,
Bathed, slept, eaten, cried with you.
Travelled from the rotten stinking hides of our city,
Moved to the brothels of our adopted home, Mumbai.
Square holes we call homes.
Been with you in your every single fight,
Taken the flight to US west coast in your beady eyes.
And in your desolate nights,
With your soul full of sacrifice,
Brimming with your love for your mother and sister,
Dripped in bits as lonely tears,
Slipped down your cheeks,
Down your luscious neck,
Between the bosom through your cleavage,
And evaporate leaving my salt behind,
To mingle in your sweat, as a the vision of blind.
I still am a willing,
Perhaps your eyes have stopped crying,
Your neck is as slender,
Your bosom as rich,
But your eyes baby,
I am the criminal,
I lost them their mist.