If you were a poet, would you write a song for me?

I asked, to someone I had a casual sex with, “Do you ever think about me?”

He is also a friend, actually first a friend, the sex was like really casual and I am not even thinking of making it a regular activity, not because he wasn’t good, he was, but because sex can’t hold me for too long. It only stays for the night.

So I asked, do you ever think about me? He said, “Of course I do, I just didn’t get the time to ping or call you, been very busy.”

No, I didn’t ask that question because I was missing him, I don’t miss anybody. Well that’s not completely true, but let’s leave it at that. I asked to understand something about me, something I have never known and though I am not sure but I think most women know that thing about themselves.

What is it about my physical being that people remember when I am not around? Do they remember me as the girl who had a great smile? The girl who was so cute, talkative, energetic? If they were writers, would any of them be able to write nice lines on my eyes? Or on how the touch of my lips felt, or how my skin glow, or how my sweet voice seduced them to the point of ecstasy?

I really wonder because no one ever said any of these romantic things to me. They did say though, “you got great boobs like to play with them; you are not pretty but you have the oomph; You got such great boobs one can work on them all night; Mr. Boner salutes you”

Guys, can you not do any better than this?

I mean, I am not even saying that I have a problem with being viewed as a sex object here, am not going into that serious line of thoughts, all I am saying is, can’t there be a bit of romance guys? Or am I being old fashioned here? I like that too, the sleazy talk et all, but ever saw beyond that? Did no one notice the depth in my eyes or the child in my smile?

Romance needs to be subtle.

When I am not around would I be remembered for the silly giggles, the funny talks, for the kind heart, the intelligent mind.

When I am not around would I be remembered at all? At times I feel I live a life that makes sense to me alone. No one else cares if I exist except me, my parents and my sister. I don’t know if that’s right or wrong. I have all these people on my Gtalk and a zillion other social media sites, and at times I stare at the list of the virtual IDs all kinds of people there with all their interesting status messages the green yellow and red lights and wonder, what remains of me in them once I sign out?

I guess what remains is a little bit of me in thousands of them but none who has the all of me.

His answer to my question was nice, he said, “The first thing I remember about you is the touch of your skin. So soft and sensuous, so awesome! And the next thing is your amazing eyes and hair!”

I know him well enough to know he isn’t making it up.

On the few things that’s going on in life I have been writing a private blog. I guess they can be published someday long enough from now, someday when the emotions portrayed therein would stand null and void. But here are a few lines from that blog:

Feelings and emotions are alright but nothing beats a man of substance, a man who is worth his words, who is like a wall you know wouldn’t fall.

But he is nothing like a wall, he is like wind, the sweet fragrance in the wind, he comes and goes, he is like a romantic dream, he is like a technicolored bubble…stays only for a while and then he is something else. Every day with him is a like a surprise every day with him is like being with a new man.

I don’t know if I want the wall or the wind. May be I need a wall. Because I myself am wind, and I need a strong wall to keep me within…keep me from escaping. But that may not be what I want.

13 thoughts on “If you were a poet, would you write a song for me?

  1. i heard how happyness smells with you.. and with you came the colors.. in technicolor, they wrote stuff to me.. beautiful things they talked about.. but the bloody-punky sons of bitches, they wrote them on the walls of my house.. cant get mad at them though.. they tell me the most beautiful poetry ever… youre beautiful.. but much better/greater than that.. when you smell.. you dont smell of pettyness or hypocracy.. only of the colors and of the fragrance of this one beautiful girl who needs to be tucked into bed sometimes by someone who cares more than the others.. a few kisses for youf forehead.. goodnight

    Like

  2. Hey, Its really nice to see an Indian woman being so open about it. Makes me proud to be an Indian in some way.
    Anyway, don’t ever think of being looked upon, just as a physical object. I don’t know you, u don’t know me. But I’m sure about one thing, that you are a Beautiful person inside. And i’m sure thousands of other readers thing so too !

    And yeah, love all your blog entries, Helps me understand women a little more.

    Like

  3. wow very nicely put, very honest and no pretentions (I wonder why are you so “YOU” online and pretentious in person) Like I read somewhere, men love with their eyes and women with their ears. So a woman would always want to hear those lovely words and poetry but a man probably will look at a boob as a a “BOOB” not not rose buds :-P. Having said that, romance will come from a person who is romantically involved, in your case there is none coz you aint seeing any body. Wait till that happens.
    Online existence hardly matters, so once you sign in you are there as long as the light is green. Once its grey you again are sent back in the last row of the memory.
    I am sure there are people to who you matter as a person and they think about you, miss you too and there are also people who miss your smile, funny side and jokes when you are not around and thats why they insist on having you around when theres a party. Sometimes romance is subtle and these acts of insisting you to come over for a meet are subtle ways of saying, “I want you around”
    When you talk about people talk about real people and not their log in IDS with which you know them. Real people will miss you in real world for virtual existence is like a mirage, its there yet its not there. Real people love you, hate you, miss you, own you, disown you.
    I guess you started writing about this post thinking of all the men who are so closed to you yet there is no one who would say those nice little nothings to you. You would look into your eyes and probably would not say a word. Alpthis will happen only when you let love happen to you and love will happen to you only whe you meet the man of your kind. Till then expecting anythinh from just casual men is useless becuase its like expecting REAL ORGASM with a CONDOM on. :-P

    Like

  4. I don’t know why this post reminds me of
    Leonard Cohen’s Poem/song Suzanne. Especially the line ‘For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind.’

    Suzanne

    Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
    You can hear the boats go by
    You can spend the night beside her
    And you know that she’s half crazy
    But that’s why you want to be there
    And she feeds you tea and oranges
    That come all the way from China
    And just when you mean to tell her
    That you have no love to give her
    Then she gets you on her wavelength
    And she lets the river answer
    That you’ve always been her lover
    And you want to travel with her
    And you want to travel blind
    And you know that she will trust you
    For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.

    And Jesus was a sailor
    When he walked upon the water
    And he spent a long time watching
    From his lonely wooden tower
    And when he knew for certain
    Only drowning men could see him
    He said “All men will be sailors then
    Until the sea shall free them”
    But he himself was broken
    Long before the sky would open
    Forsaken, almost human
    He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
    And you want to travel with him
    And you want to travel blind
    And you think maybe you’ll trust him
    For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind.

    Now Suzanne takes your hand
    And she leads you to the river
    She is wearing rags and feathers
    From Salvation Army counters
    And the sun pours down like honey
    On our lady of the harbour
    And she shows you where to look
    Among the garbage and the flowers
    There are heroes in the seaweed
    There are children in the morning
    They are leaning out for love
    And they will lean that way forever
    While Suzanne holds the mirror
    And you want to travel with her
    And you want to travel blind
    And you know that you can trust her
    For she’s touched your perfect body with her mind.

    Like

  5. “If you were a poet, would you write a song for me?”
    Plato answered your question long time back: “At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet”
    So if your love has touched someone he will be a poet and will write a song for you.

    On what remains of you in them… here is another quote coming to my mind :
    “If so many men, so many minds, certainly so many hearts, so many kinds of love”
    -by none other than Tolstoy.

    Like

  6. Babes, dont yearn so much for a love so pure as there may be none who deserve such love that you have with you to share.

    But the wise men say it is better to trust and get cheated than to never trust ever.

    Take care!

    Like

  7. “Casual sex” and “romance” contradict each other. That’s why it’s called “casual”.

    If you’re looking for romance from a guy you’re having sex with, it’s a proper relationship.

    Like

  8. Sanjukta,

    Just came across ur blog and ur candid expression. The honesty that reflects in your words is just amazing. Very few people can write without any pretensions and I feel it is a blessing as it can help vent out innermost turmoils and mind churning!

    Like

  9. He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
    A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare,
    One of the low on whom assurance sits
    As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
    The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
    The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
    Endeavours to engage her in caresses
    Which are still unreproved, if undesired.
    Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
    Exploring hands encounter no defence;
    His vanity requires no response,
    And makes a welcome of indifference.
    …….
    Bestows one final patronising kiss,
    And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit…
    She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
    Hardly aware of her departed lover;
    Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
    ‘Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.’

    Like

  10. Never had casual sex with neone – so cant say how i would have reacted to the person after that; but yes I too maintain a private blog and plan to release then someday! – This was one of my reaction to what i felt..

    Touch electric
    =========

    Touch electric
    Tender nibble
    Delicate flick
    Nectar trickle

    Supple morsel
    Indulgent nips
    Ripples sublime
    Tango hips

    Thrusts divine
    Delirious pace
    Teeth caressing
    Eternal embrace

    Desire electric
    Unabated
    Flesh aching
    Satiated

    And about something that I loved – a small Haiku:

    A silken mess named beauty
    Flick of a hand
    Order returns

    Like

Share your views

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s