sweet sinner

if there was a fruit roulette

let it land on you, wet

oh, nectar queen!

draped in a sari of green

wondrous bossman’s treasure

veiled in boxed pleasure

Chaunsa, Alphonso, Sindhri

let us flee and be free

from Ilford Lane

seductive sin take your reign

laze in a sticky plate

which holds your weight

waiting for Nani to serve

your sweet spots and bruised curves

our mouths will excavate

and liberate

the pitstone Nani finds

and sacrifices for my piece of mind

She is a martyr.

I bathe you in masala and achaar

your fibres plucked like a sitar

I turned your remnants into lassi

and made a heart-felt plea,

my tongue is glazed with your rus

drops of passion melting into

a monsoon of honey

you taste sweeter than a boy

a forbidden fruit to enjoy

I thought i washed my sins down my throat

But you still sugarcoat

And dance in my mouth.