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She whispers
"I'm psychic"
He Gasps
"Whoa"
he said
"I bet I can read your mind"
she said
"You’ll never read my mind"
he said
He closes his eyes
Her face closer to his
He takes a peak
She leans
kissing his cheeks
He smiles
opening his eyes
"Good guess"
he said
She smiles
"I predict it"
she said
He smiles
"I am thinking about it"
he said.
Sugar and Spice

The moments of Happiness

Stolen from Mundane

Sifted from the Rigour

Tempering Done

Sweetning Some

Happy the Moments

Savoured every Flavour

Sugar and Spice
This thing between us is not clear,
But it's so beautiful and pure.
I don't care about it's name,
I won't be able to if you ask me to elaborate.
This feeling I get whenever you're near,
This spark and charm that you inspire.
The more and more space in my heart you seems gain,
I'm just a moth to your flame.
The intensity of my feelings for you is scary,
As oppose to the easiness in your life that you seems to carry.
Everytime you come close to me,
My heart skips a beat.
I know it's cliché that I just repeat.
You are what they say "bad for health",
I don't know how I'll keep this strength.
But I don't wanna get lost in you,
All I Want is to be close to you.
The Physics of Love: The Equivalency Fallacy


the poet places his Sunday porcelain coffee mug  
upon his bare chest, purposed to heat the heart to a
higher degree, equal to hers, next door, three feet away,
in their communal bed

two identical alarm clocks, one on each nightstand,
confirms the degree differential, for far beyond time-telling,
it informs on me, providing the room temperature,
and her side of the bed, 5 degrees warmer

the collegial scientists posit theoretical excuses,
the rooms wind currents, proximity to the A/C, body mass,
all refuted after visual and mechanical inspection,
all indelible proofs of the Equivalency Fallacy

despite the visual evidence abounding all around,
despite the surrounding starlike quantity of busted,
love songs, poems and the other artistic churn,
depicting the principle, one requires love physics to validate the
living principle for the living, that love is rarely identical
in quantitative quality, typology, representation and
manifestations measurable

each greets the other with morning declarations of
mutuality, trying to find those hundred different ways
to love her/him today, employing imaginative artifice to proof
the impossibility, that in every aspect your living love ability
is precious capital precision equal
and ha! each love is the greater...

you knew this?
then you knew, his coffee spills (intentionally?) and the
Fighting Fallacy rules,
every thing is fair in love and war, for they too, are
identical and equal, in so many ways,
but never quantifiable exactly

8:33am, 73 degrees, on my side
11/12/17
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/jamesingram/onehundredways.html
i want you to get tired
tired enough to leave me
so that i'll know
that all the people
in my life
left for a reason
that way i'll understand
how i became like this
so lonely
so broken
so afraid of love and trust
as if it'll burn me
and maybe
you'll prove me right
that i was never enough
to make people stay.

but still i hope,
you'd be the one
to prove me wrong.
will she prove me wrong?
The news said:
"It's entirely likely,
in fact, it's more likely,
that we are living in a simulation."

The circus and the chorus lines
are just for the architect's amusement.
When the leotards on the high wire
fall, he laughs the hardest.

Measuring the moon with his hands,
does anyone knows its' circumference?
"If someone can measure the moon,
we are better off."

Everyone forgets
the fallen artist,
and stares at the moon.
Some shout indiscriminately.

Three engineers
create a proof,
that creates an equation,
that is widely believed
for the next 100 years, before
proven later to be false.

The artist nurses his broken knee.
"Can't anyone see I'm suffering?"
Everyone stares at the moon.
 Nov 2017 Gourav R Dwivedi
Chloe
47 days.
1,128 hours.
One month, two weeks, two days, 13 hours, 26 minutes and 40 seconds.


47 days until I can hold you in my arms.
Until I can kiss your lips.
Until I can hold your hand.
Until we can watch the sunrise together.

47 days until I can fall asleep with you.
Until I can stare into your eyes.
Until I can make you smile.
Until we can fall in love again.

47 days until you can hold me in your arms
Until you can play with my hair.
Until you can make me laugh.
Until we are one again.  

47 days until I am whole again.
Patiently waiting until we are together again.
Politics and gain
Oh so vain
Have I ,would become

Offender and the offended
Are they same in the game

Where's the next bend
There seems to be no end

Mixed emotions
Run through the veins
Know not any retreat

A land unknown ,
No fear lays
Unknown, it forever stays

What if End comes
Untimely
I would be Ghost Writer
Please Read the lines
Nothing in between :))

Some odd thoughts
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