Nikam Rohit

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              Slowly the sun sets out of the metal frame. The nature darkens while the building burns in the explosion of sparkling lights. Chirpings of the evening birds is now faded out. I woke up rubbing my eyes, looking out of the sliding glass. “Did you sleep well?” she asks over my shoulder. “Yes.” I say turning around. Still in the hangover from the last sip of alcohol, I brush my hair with a gentle blow of my fingers letting out a deep breath. “Have a bath, you’ll feel good.” She says directing me towards the washroom.                Standing naked below the shower, feeling each strike of the cold water on my head, I kept my eyes closed trying to recall the afternoon. There was a blurry image. Though it was shaken, it was sharply focused in my subconscious. Two bodies lying beside each other.             ...

He wanted her back, in his life. To make him smile. To make him cherish, love. To fade his worries. His silence. With a blissful laughter from her heart. All he wanted was to talk. One last time. All he wanted. All he prayed for. Was her. To make him live his life. By her side. - Rohit Nikam.

I wish my poetry could flow in the stream of rhythms. Locked in the haven of words. Sprinkling showers of emotions. Escaping into the sea of dust. - Rohit Nikam.

And he just sat there quite. Observing. Lost in his own thoughts. Listening to her giggly talks. Tucking her hair behind her ear. Those silky untied hair. She turned. Looked at him. Watching her blushing smile. He died. Again for the Hundredth of time. - Rohit Nikam.

To me you're some kind of magic. Appearing from thin air. Blessed by Amor. Piercing my being with a arrow, borrowed from cupid. Bewitching m. Running through my blood. Pumping my ticker. Glaring at the fantasy accompanying my thoughts. Because, you're some kind of magic. I believe. Making me escape into serenity. - Rohit Nikam 

Standing far form my sight. You seemed to be a burning soul. Dark and free from the treacherous world. As you came closer, your affection melted me, from the core of my breath. Swirling me into a composer of, untidy poetry. - Rohit Nikam