Love

It is when we don’t have any proof And still we go on an expedition to collect The probabilities that you are, On the ledge of a moment that effaces, A collective experience of beginnings And turns one to a prized catch. You are then almost a hypothesis That strangely proposes that in this acclimatization…

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A Chemistry Lesson On Love

What we don’t do inside fabric, And do in light and dimmed interiors, A child grows up to learn that love Is just a toy in early summer, An entire season on itself, thereafter, When the stubborn gaze, and the open lip, Conspire to let lip-twigs fire, as often As the winds would permit, And…

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