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Soumya Inavilli May 2018
Of parallel lines that would never converge.

You and I were just the same,
running around the world chasing our dreams,
weaving colourful dramas out of
our mundane monochrome lives.

You and I were just the same,
building bridges made of thoughts to reach out
to each other whenever words fell short
and spoke often with our eyes.

You and I were just the same,
treading on the same plane carrying each
others burden and revelling in each others
happiness though our paths were never alike.

You and I are still just the same,
or maybe that's what I like to think so
we only chose to move ahead in
different directions now.

You and I will always be just the same
we sure will change with time and age but deep
inside me a part of you lives and
in you I shall continue to exist.

You and I belong to the same old story,
only now writing different versions of it in our heads,
and living the tale
of parallel lines that would never converge.
who talks to me while I sleep
in whispers and sighs that only a lover knows
warmth of touch I cannot move
floating in colors of lucid dream
I awaken to hear the words and feel the warmth
fade into the wooden floors

my conscious soul abducted
I live another life in fleeting years
the line becomes closer
my thoughts remain clear
what is dream
and what is not
where does time not exist
oldie - revised
Gabriel burnS Apr 2018
An angel fell because… (skip gender-”biased pronouns” here or anonymize with asterisk lunacy) wings were in conflict… the left one anxiously ***** equality, not knowing that would mean a lack of lift and loss of aerodynamic quality… the right one, weaponized, stiffly resolved, glides over the notion that all feathers should be attached talons, even though it doesn’t make sense to fight gravity with sharpness…
And so the angel split with Grace and tumbled… eventually lost the race to inertia… another force to add up to internal struggle and its intensifying pressures...
J Mar 2018
Perhaps, in a parallel universe;
or in another lifetime if there
is such a thing, we'll find each
other.

If we do, my hope is that we both
are free from the ghosts and echoes
of our past.

And if we are, I will love you just
the same as I do now, until my
bones are reduced to dust; in the
silent pauses of my heartbeat,
down to the very last of it.
In a parallel universe.
Umi Mar 2018
Antimatter mirroring our existance on the pathway of a reverse world
Imagine it, time stands still, halts without a will to  continue its flow if it were to possess one to begin with, and everything is but fragile,
Illusionary moon, shine on in this distorted realm in which not even gravity is reliable or even trustworthy at this point, up is down here,
An imperishable night caught under a spell of eternity, uninterrupted
Everlasting, permanently shining, the fake moons appearance is clear,
Unremitting, sweetly told as a if it was a lie, the rumours of this world spread more likely like a disease through the ancient, young earth,
A line parallel drawn to ours, a dimension coexisting without sense,
It appears to be fragile, like a newborn child, the smallest disturbance would mostlikely ruin it's balance, bring tremor upon it wretchedly,
But where that life sparkles as then fades, two dimensions surely would overlap, of course, maybe it will be the world you inhabit, no?
In the realm of the dead, a loitering, lingering darkness thins the borders of reality and illusion, causing them to exist as one, now with the same heart and soul, a fantasy heaven which became reality,
After all, that place is only temporary,one surely could even call it a;
Short living eternity,

~ Umi
M Aiman A Mar 2018
In a perfect world
where the best version
of me exist,

I will not lack love
nor friendship

That me would
not be devoid of myself
Nor i need
The never-ending self reassurances
Bardo Mar 2018
O! the lives I've wasted
The lives I could have led
If different paths I'd taken
And different people I'd met.

O! what friends were lost
When just around the corner they lay
Their voices heard but their faces
   hidden
O! why had Destiny to steer me this
   way.

                              II

With my life here in my hands
My impulsive moves and slow
   meanderings
My efforts regulated by my will to
   abstain
In gaining my present position
What have I lost elsewhere
And what have others lost
Because of my absence there.
No, I haven't killed anyone, this is about regrets and what ifs, a bit of existential angst
fatima Mar 2018
cold hands and long limbs
pink and blue dresses
his and her times
longing feets everything

'why are your hands so cold?'
maybe my hand means us
our times that have been frozen
trying to resurrect from death

the moment didn't last
as we are going to reality
ending the tempo
and parting ways.
thank you. i loved you. goodbye (for the nth time)
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