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You have imprinted all your memories here,
And now you do not have to at all fear.

You just tell me what and I will not just hear,
With all my soul I will always strive to listen.

You look beautiful in the night lamp dear,
For all the beads of your sweat will glisten.

You look gorgeous with those pearls there,
From your forehead they all are descended.

You appear youthful with those curls there,
Around your ears they all are so nicely coiled.

You appear deadly with those curvy eyes,
Lucky me I'll cherish their charms for lifelong.

You look fabulous with your lips quivering,
Even in my dreams I have not been luckier.
Posted first on https://www.facebook.com/KripiAtul

My HP Poem #838
©Atul Kaushal
I want to spend my mornings drinking tea in the early English fog.
Spend my afternoon at the foot of the Eiffel Tower being touristy drinking dark red wine.
I want to drink beer in Germany and head on over to Ireland for dinner.
I want to get sunburns from sunsets in Italy.
Talk to the deadliest animals alive in Australia and swim in the blue ocean near New Zealand.
I want to pic flowers in Thailand and eat sushi in China.

My heart will never stop wandering.
My heart will never be still.
I need to travel again.
my lips, limbs
this skin
I don't recognize them
I breathe out
& breathe in
my lungs do without it
how did it begin
to then end
before it is poured
I am opening doors
it is yours
this is yours
I'm picking my sores
& my bones off the floor
I cannot bend anymore
all of my laces have torn
& I'll front-face a storm
I haven't a fear of disaster
it is my hope that gets choked
& sharp pains replace laughter
what did I look like before this
& who's is this voice
what comes after you've left
I do not have a choice

I've not been known to nest low
I've stayed fairly high
but I've been let go to shatter
& glass birds do not fly
isolating yourself
wont make you
any

less

lonely
if you yearn for company, why do you push everyone away?
I don’t understand how I even try, especially when the only thing I ask is “Why?”
Did you play with me as if I were a puppet in some game?
Or did I mean anything to you at all?
You give truth to the phrase “All men are the same”
And one day, I pray, that your pride will meet its downfall
For nobody deserves this… your selfishness.
I am probably going to add on more to the beginning at some point
Blank pages haunt me so.
I want nothing more than
my words to flow

freely from my fingertips.
I crave expression worthy
of her attentiveness.

I want to grant her a repose
from the mediocrity of my
anemically feeble prose.

But my words no longer
shock and stop her heart,
her knees are stronger
and harder to make weak.
And I know my words no
longer impress her because
they no longer impress me.
I **** and I'm boring.
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