maybe after everything subsides, our hearts will cease to melt in this icebox with my love for the orange plums.

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  • epigramfortwo 1w

    I seem like a sky
    with clouds swinging,
    diamonds, lamplights,
    and fireflies,
    I seem eager
    to a morning
    which ripples in time
    down you see,

    I am hovering
    and cringing
    at the pier bridge,
    the last letter
    could not transliterate
    and everything sinks
    up till the gulls leave for the skies

    The evenings swimming
    in leafless pools,
    the water in my head floats,
    Moments are harder
    you see to be transpired,
    when the world heads together
    in search of another truth,

    The soles thinning in
    these streets, you
    draw a line between us,
    I am nigh you yet apart,
    I seem like the Underworld
    vilified and vindictive,
    the thousand scraps of hearts
    lay low in the company of misery,
    I sing the songs
    and hid the poems


  • epigramfortwo 2w

    If the light
    gave you photosynthesis,
    it gave me many things
    as well in the bargain,

    we run into
    each other,
    like a fallen leaf,
    words, thwarts,
    calls a Ridgewood
    Vineyard for these nights'
    happy hours warming up
    the winter addressing
    summer paranoia,

    birds, cars, cities, towns
    will have to resume
    life for reasons manifold,

    I fold my cards, angry, gentle,
    listless, faded, fading away

    like another year,
    another sunofureko
    to your hair
    hana, tanka

    hopefully it'll be serendipity

  • epigramfortwo 4w

    I lived once in the ocean,
    the waves were always
    pleasing notions to
    one to talk about that
    you hardly need time
    to acquiesce
    with the currents,

    life is a Hawaiian song of sunsets,

    Now life gets yens to look at trees,
    evacuation affirmative from distant
    flares and some water with no tears,
    say we're happy with goals, not dreams

    Ocean waves delicately brakes,
    to sit and watch them and then,
    "It must be tough to live just
    doing what you love"
    "But you know what? I've never
    once swum where you've sailed."


  • epigramfortwo 5w

    I've got shallow friends
    who talk about deep things
    and profound ones
    who love appearing shallow,
    this world isn't what it seems,
    even the smallest crack
    of light between the abyss
    had to be so benign,
    being blind cannot be a pretense,
    but when you need a helping hand,
    go and seek a library behind
    the shrubbery of spring,
    I've got my own share
    of beckoning and own little
    shelves of allocating blessings
    and omens and when you
    wanted to truly care about someone,
    you could have been just like
    everyone else, adamant and unkind.


  • epigramfortwo 6w

    I planted it again,
    an idea, a spell, the sapling
    I plucked out by mischance,
    I planted it again being privy
    to the contrary and the firm land,
    I've got no shovel, no spade,
    just two imperfect hands,
    but the thought counts somewhere
    where leaden eyes and haptic bearings
    welcome beginnings to ends,
    to part ways without looking back,
    I doused the thriving greens on shiny days,
    minced onions and stirred the mixture
    with the beaming chillies
    I picked up to please the terms
    and conditions of taste buds
    out of my tendency to fidget,
    I planted it again, falling prey
    to mistakes and repetitions


  • epigramfortwo 10w

    I cannot let go of
    my feelings for her
    to move on and beyond,
    Anyone can move on,
    but notice that it does not
    take seconds
    back to square one,

    It doesn't need a heart
    to escape the past,
    just the wheel and the road,
    stymied by the times
    I hoped to have lingered
    for all the little things
    that transpired between us,
    I keep stirring for one last time.


  • epigramfortwo 10w

    That song about waterfalls,
    I knew you had a peculiar taste,
    I swear we weren't strangers before,
    but now we were.

    That night when we were
    swathed by the fog,
    you held me close
    like all lovers do
    inside hearts and secrets.

    That movie with the scene
    about waterfalls,
    I washed my face
    inside while you washed
    our clothes,
    asking me to pen
    a novel about us
    living in the woods.

    I left you behind
    now that we're dreaming.
    I am awake inside and you
    incarcerated me with
    your wish to
    bind me up to the

    Like a satellite
    i send you weather
    forecasts and pictures
    of waterfalls.

    Like gravity,
    I come crashing down
    while you stood like a rock.

  • epigramfortwo 10w

    I get way too dense when you
    come up to me to talk about
    yet I would like to dance
    with you to a failing tune
    about Descartes and the Resistance;
    I get so tensed up with the patience
    playing the Solitaire,
    yet you find yourself airing out
    past news with the incense,
    Lovers left after check mates,
    I sense way too much amnesia
    in your absence,
    hashtag searches didn't seem like
    inserting pence now that I'm short on
    dialing the codes inside the booth,
    I leave the scenes as the cat with no bell,
    I hoped we have been more outspoken
    than naive, between us the icy fence.


  • epigramfortwo 11w

    "I fish for
    the housekeys
    in yer bag,
    it's late and
    a hilarious sitcom
    must be broadcasting
    right now at this moment,
    I have absolutely no urge to haste",
    Gerard says to her, "it's alright, read a little Marx, if so recite me some of those flashy
    advertisement signs on our way home."

    "I have seemingly no problem then
    to read and let no thought develop",
    "I fish for the missing knitting needles
    inside my bag, Jerry, did you take them out?"

    "But right now we got bigger fish to fry,"

    "like deja vu, double entendre, compulsive laughter, the same cassette stuck whirring",

    "We could have stayed home, ya know!"

    "like restless syndromes",

    Gerard drives
    home following
    the car-cum-showroom,
    while Joan forgets to bring
    her wool with her.


  • epigramfortwo 11w

    All my life
    I've looked at words
    as though that winter sun
    shrieks more than the intent
    to wake up and regain,
    the windows bolted out
    open to brick and lay the
    outdoor street
    bustling with the rhymes,
    all the words bubbling
    for dispensation,

    I've looked at words
    transitioning like the traffic lights,
    red, pink, yellow, orange,
    blue, green and grey,
    words with their own
    cheeky coloured connotations,

    with the willingness to impart
    the nature's faculty and yours,
    with the simmering withdrawal
    to run away from rush hour
    leaving almost all behind,
    but for you and I,
    we're all stuck
    like words in this jam, right?

    then let us celebrate errors as well,
    how would you like an errata for the misspelt?
    how would you like to call in sick today?

    Life hasn't always been words,
    you unlearn emotions,
    drawl out impulses like a synthesizer,
    your syntactic syntax working
    up veins and vowels and consonants on
    some memory sojourn,

    All this time I had been chasing
    dictionaries to swell her up
    from under the streetlights
    to her inside an apartment complex,

    floating above swimming pools
    and drinking in drained out tanks
    up above below some terrace,
    somedays I'm waiting for
    her charming self at a bar,
    now she comes once
    by the weekend,

    words were always
    inside us like toxins and peptides,
    all my life breathing words,
    words were never more

    All my life,
    I've looked at words,
    my flow of consciousness
    used to the waves of the seen,
    the felt and the sounds touch
    my feet upon the transient sand,
    words fleeting after years,
    words fleeting in search of moments,
    when a girl seeks words
    from her suitor, and he promised
    he'd bleed and pour letters of love,
    words lost when the letters never reach,
    as the suitor seeks for her in the grainy storm

    now I never look at words as before,
    I am content with words being objects.