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This heart will now crave,
For the love which nobody gave,
I'm feelin' like a dead man in a grave.

I carry singly my lonely zeal,
Now this heart won't soon heal,
Except heartbreak nothing's real.

This heart has suffered a wound,
Feels like its clock has unwound,
A baby deep inside wails around.
My HP Poem #963
©Atul Kaushal
wind chimes because
...  i love the sound
you learned our song and played it
... Christmas morning
notes on my windshield even though
... i'd see you at home
the beach cruiser you bought me
... that looks just like yours

i can still hear the waves
... at my front door
but i can't seem to visit
... the  shore anymore
my stomach can't take
... those long walks alone
we spent so many hours
... now;... i wonder;... what for¿

maybe it's to spite you
... because-you-want-it-so
maybe it's the memories
... of our life. here. before.

OR;,...may
                    be i just can't
... love ((it))
any _ _ _ more
Xy
I have been reading genetics,
Even as a part of my course,
Apart from my dear hobby.

I have got this scientific temper,
Of course I got it all genetically,
From both mommy 'nd daddy.

Genetics define my autosomes,
Even my other chromosomes,
Which gave me my gender.

I am an Aryan-Dravidian born,
With a fantastic genetic base,
Variation is a genetic boon.

My father tells me to marry farther,
Continuing the ancient tradition,
A tradition that imparts finesse.
My great-great grandfather married a Sindhi lady.
My great grandfather married a Gujarati lady.
My grandfather married a Punjabi lady.
My father married a Kannada lady.

I guess that I should marry someone not from this planet!!!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Just kidding, I don't actually know who I would actually marry if I ever marry at all - love has always disappointed me.

My HP Poem #962
©Atul Kaushal
Ferociously,
quickly,
precisely,
I am picking at my hair.
Pulling on them from the root.
Sweet, odd, relief.
Followed by devastating guilt.
Why can't I beat this?
Am I really that weak.
Just
S t o p .
the night is deep
though you're not yet asleep
and the air outside our window
can't bring you under our sheets

I held your hand and kissed you
all the way to your ear
to slowly confesss
what my heart wants to tell

"I would never bother to go
outside and look for the stars
'cause I see the universe
in your eyes..."

"you are the brightest star
in the constellation
of people..."

"you are my star..."

you smiled and slowly,
started caressing my hair
like turning the pages
of your favorite book
and went closer for my ear
and whispered,

"you're my universe
and what you saw
was your reflection..."

"I see you as my home..."

"and that's where the
*brightest star belongs..."
Fragility can hardly explain you.
Breaking apart in my eyesight
Locking eyes then peeling away like rot fruit
You speak so fast.
I can barely tell whether you speak at all or flurry your words out like poker cards
Dealing me fours and sixes
I can't make aces out of the air you breathe
Yet I knit poetry out of your lingering fingertips.
This was RUSHED AF! :)
what  troubles me,
i cannot say... and by that
i mean
i cannot say
well.
but never rest assured,
for assuredly
sleep is far
from my tongue.
further than the ineffable.
and what i cannot say well
must at least be poetry
you cannot
know

well.....

it's all i've got.

like a nest of cream-filled ice cubes
melting in Antarctica.
or your fingerprints on an oar...
but an oar made of
dead boats.

you are not a dream
i'm having.
i am having a fit
that we
are dreaming apart.
we are as rare
to each other
as glass
smoke.
and not one of us knows
how to strike
such a fire.
The snail strolls gently
Realigning hoped moments
A slow pace of consequences
****** and placed on tables
Harped to melodic tunes
Summed in upbeat sequences
The crescendo boils to ******
The climb of beats and undertones
All exposed and overlooked
The onlookers astonished
My ribs pinned out in pain
I squeeze to the cracks of normality
Attempting to slowly leap
To see the darkness of winter
To breath the stilled air
Yet, a hope lived, a life seen
We all shall make it to the end
Crawling to cut the finish line
Life seems slow but with minimal leaps. We shall all see the finish line. The aspect of living a "normal" life pain my ribs; up to the point the onlookers are astonished. We are all heading to the finish line, some things have to be embraced! But do we have to?
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