It was year of the devil
Red horns ; 
Cryptic crimson coloured clothes
With a strange hue of curious gold
I was consumed.
A pack of cigarettes 
And a bottle of Vodka.
She liked it with cranberry juice.
Her lips were soft
Softer than the clouds 
Her skin felt like velvet
It was magic.
I was the same.
With a hazy mind
A hazy heart
I wanted to be her.
That night
Under the spell of intoxication
Her cold finger tips touched my burning lips
and a quiver ran through me 
down to the tip of her toes.
It was comfortable and warm
Under the white sheets
And then I slept.
I slept to wake up the next morning
Wondering if it was all an illusion
Confused about my own likes
I woke up to ambiguity and then I decided
I decided to forget it.
And I did except
Every time I find myself 
In a similar state of drunkenness 
I think of her and laugh
And then sigh
And there lies my sin
It was innocent 
I kissed a girl and I liked it.


  • This is beautiful. ❤️

    Apoorva Mathur
  • Wow! You depicted the delicacy of the situation so beautifully. Amazing work.

  • I absolutely love this piece. obviously. Thank you for giving my day a ray of sunshine. I miss youuuu.

    Arshya Mandhar
  • The poem runs like a movie in my head. Great job poet.

    Hemant Shah
  • Wow! So beautifully expressed Seerat. The flow is so good.
    “Her cold finger tips touched my burning lips”- Amazing use of oxymoron. Kudos!

    Janvi Mudgal

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