mohitasingh

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Expressive Movement Therapist

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  • mohitasingh 4w

    How will u heal
    my love ?
    What can I do to make u happy?
    I will bend,
    To mend,
    What will make us both whole..
    can never break me.


    ©mohitasingh

  • mohitasingh 4w

    THE ALCHEMIST

    I could speak
    And you would listen
    I know,
    Listen, with no judgement
    Sitting patiently,
    Gaze locked, breath stable
    And your beautiful graceful fingers,
    steepled together, across your chest
    forming a temple of care
    That hold my prayers.

    Here in this pious space
    I bare my tarnished soul to you
    With all the rust, and the cold, unhinged parts
    And as you listen ..
    your beautiful graceful fingers
    steepled together –
    stay strong, as they hold my fears.

    And .. after my speaking is done
    After the tears have had their run
    Still quiet, you lean ahead,
    Tilting your grey- black head
    gaze locked,
    A heartbeat stopped …
    your calm hands move ..a liquid motion
    To collect and treasure,
    The debri,
    That's me.

    And now,
    your clean lined palms
    upturn together,
    staying firm,
    as they hold my broken prayers.


    I watch meamerized
    Now as you you speak,
    Expertly sculpting techniques
    Mending my broken, jagged parts.
    Warm voice ..molten flowing gold
    sealing the cracks.

    That steady stream, the resonant tone
    Lightly reason my avid despairs
    And your artistic graceful fingers; now glisten,
    as they wipe my silent tears.

    At times your voice smiled
    at times pushed confines,
    patient, persistent, tender
    Until I barely remember,
    the reasons why all this began,
    All I know is that in the end,
    The feeling grows on a dizzy- urgent sense,
    So wildly reasons I now construe
    To start a conversation anew
    For as I speak, and you sit,
    Listening patiently ,
    Gaze locked, breath stable
    with your beautiful graceful fingers,
    steepled together, across your chest –
    My god- I learn you by the heart,
    As sound of your voice flows,
    Healing me with an alchemic art.
    ©mohitasingh

  • mohitasingh 5w

    Your Vanishing Act

    He's vanished..yet again
    Back to his shell to heal
    Alone
    Absent in my life
    Present..
    on my worrying mind.
    Heart to heart
    Our lives connect
    Silken threads
    stretched and fraying
    Come back, my love,
    before they snap

  • mohitasingh 5w

    Of Storyteller's & Their Yarn

    You speak
    Words gliding...
    moist on my lips
    the fresh dew of them moistening my parched lips.
    Sweet flavour on my tongue
    I taste,
    Nah..
    I devour.. with my foolish heart,
    the stories you spin.

    Now I am nothing,
    But a cluster of feelings,
    Warm glowing embers, of a fire once burnt hot and wild

    This fire, that has worn it's path,
    Often
    searing through my veins
    But I sit,
    seemingly nonchalant..
    So you would never know
    I amaze myself.

    Because underneath my calm,
    my hands wear the silk of your scent,
    Where your palms touched,
    my skin warm
    with heat
    your mere presence evokes
    A telling shade of pink spreading...
    chaos running riot .
    Untouched ..I am burnt.
    I amaze myself

    But I sit,
    seemingly nonchalant.
    Ahh..the stories we tell our selves .



    ©mohitasingh

  • mohitasingh 5w

    I would never let you fall

    I gently accused
    You oscillate so,
    Two steps back ..one step forward

    Why won't you move ahead
    Or just step back.

    She mutely smiled
    Frozen .

    And so
    On a prespice's edge
    We stood
    For a life time.

    My breath held on a promise
    She uttered not
    But I sensed
    from life times of loving and knowing her

    I tried everything
    To nudge her,
    Hoping she would tip
    and fall into my arms so
    I lost my balance
    And together we could soar to heaven

    If only she would trust.


    ©mohitasingh

  • mohitasingh 6w

    Will he turn a monk ?

    He said he'd be a monk
    If it were not for the love poems I wrote on him

    He said he knew,
    Of all the lives we had lived and almost loved each other.

    He said he sensed how the spaces between us were charged,
    almost with a connect live

    The problem is,
    he always said "almost"

    And now,
    I am tempted
    to turn the almost
    into always

    Do I dare ?
    Does he dare?

  • mohitasingh 6w

    Too close to see

    These are really not just words
    these are pieces of my soul
    some glistening with the bits of pixie dust
    that I couldn't dust off
    because I was in a hurry
    and some still warm
    from the ashes
    that still clung to my nails
    because I forgot
    that the heat can burn.

    You wont find them lying on your shoulders
    where my arm touched
    or in your fingertips
    which brushed my hair back.

    Go find a mirror my dear,
    and then find them
    these bits of my soul
    on your eye lashes
    So close
    you donot even see them .

    ©mohitasingh

  • mohitasingh 8w

    It's the thirst that lingers on your mind,
    That awakens you at 3am with a parched throat,
    because you slept with a name stuck on your breath.

    It's this thirst,
    that's unquenched after thousands of touches and breath's
    It makes the feel of his name on your parched lips,
    smooth as wine.

  • mohitasingh 8w

    A pelting rain
    Left them stuck ..
    Alone
    Together.
    For hours

    The rain poured it's heart out
    The pitter patter melody,
    a passionate love ballad.

    Singing, what they should be saying to each other.
    But would not
    Yet,
    It was a heavenly sight.


    He stood,
    framed at the door
    Back to her,
    ostensibly in observation of the downpour.
    His hands holding
    the doorjamb,
    instead of her.

    And she,
    in rapt observation of his strong back
    Stood carefully afar
    Daring the rising desire in her veins to weaken her knees.
    Watching his hands at the doorjamb .. jealous of the wood and metal.


    Both knew
    They were trapped
    By honour
    Not by the rain.
    __________________

    Read More

    Everything is not fair in love

    ©mohitasingh

  • mohitasingh 45w

    The Problem with Early Mornings :))

    I awaken..and the fragrance of your name on my lips catches my breath..

    Inhale ..you glide in with my breath.. bringing me to life..and another morning breaks.

    Exhale.. you glide out with my breath...
    But I hold my breath now.. because I don't want to lose you
    Breathlessly, I wonder ..marvel at my insanity each morning

    I wonder too if you are breathing..faraway..some where warm in your sheets,
    Your breath fragrant on the pillows,
    I also wonder if your breath sings the incessant song of my name.
    ©mohitasingh