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  May 2016 surpratik
Sarah
Do you think that there are others
Who've also met lifetimes ago
who continue to find each other
over
and over
and over again
Throughout the courses of their lives

Teach and grow and mold and flow
Piecing fleeting moments together
In order to create a reality
That is altogether ours entirely

Existentialism and bourbon on Saturday
Pancakes and prayer filled Sunday mornings
We'll hold church between my thighs and remember what it's like
To believe in something other than God.
surpratik May 2016
this here
is a saga of a child
lonely and sad
seeking faith in the wild

born of fear
forbidden to love
but loves everything
he sees and touches

claps his hands
but didn't know it's war
growing up was hard
with peace no more

was told of fairy-tales
of an imperil utopia
then given guns
in place of arcadia

the boy remains
a boy no more
with ****** khakee shirts
and bones sore

shown a path to hate
and misery
but tears in his eyes
missing his family

prays to a god
who does not exist
grudges on leaders
and failed politics

finds his savior
in an stranger's bullets
they said it was the enemy
but it was just people
  May 2016 surpratik
Rapunzoll
they make goodbyes
sound easy
when they're at your door
late at night
and they scream your
name like a warning
from the bottom
of the staircase
you leave them,
until apologies make
your tongue as raw as
saw-dust
those nameless boys
the one's with
smoky breath,
they write your name
to the skies
constellate it to their
forefingers and cross it
over their forehead
like a baptism
those boys with hands
that eat like worms
at the dying heart
of your feelings
no, they don't love you
only death can
love you,
nameless girl
with the
countless faces.
© copyright
  Apr 2016 surpratik
Marina
Whispering noise in my ears
Like little kisses on my forehead
Comforting and addicting
Wrap my cigarette around my lips
Inhale my toxic waste
I am your wonderland
I want to taste you
Sweet like honeysuckle
Bodies rocking
Beds breaking
Obliterating reality into euphoria
Traveling through time and space
Colors moving rapidly
At two a.m. In your bedroom
Undercover
Locked doors
surpratik Apr 2016
distance could grow all the "i love yous" to "i miss yous"

this may not even be a poem but
i miss you
p.s. come back
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