friends

Open letters- I wish someone would write this for me

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Dear Sara,
I am sitting here with my coffee tumbler (as you aptly call it)  in front of me and I feel no need to drink this elixir of hope we call coffee. I miss you. I can almost imagine your beautiful face beyond the steam of freshly brewed coffee and your barely contained excitement and I can hardly make my way through these words you say, they puzzle me. I see this dancing spirit in your eyes and I am already in another time, another landscape. Perhaps we are old and with our weak knees and bones grumble about youths or we are dancing down a slope in a frenzy of expert moves and maneuvers. You scold me later but darling, how do I turn down these invitations of ecstatic promises. Hold my hand and make me stay in now.
Yours forever,
Rhett

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A drunk driver

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The word best in front of friend
Was like a red traffic light
On the roadside,
Tread carefully
For a drunk raging driver could still come,
and blow you away,
It was not for surety of safety,
It still screamed a warning.

Fears

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Suddenly the fear resided,
not in the gradual fading of memories
but rather in their singular nature, provided
that when in future they be babbled out in reminiscence
they render not a companionable giggle
but rather a blank stare.

Waiting upon a baseless ideal

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If love was geometrical,
I waited forever with
A triangle of a heart
In hope to find a match
And make a diamond
of a relationship.
But all I came across,
Was an array of alternate lines.

Disliked Guests

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Each hour

drawing your attention,

each day trying

to talk to you,

feels like an over extended stay

of a mother-in-law at her

own son’s home.

#PROJECT2014: A POST A MONTH (April) : Even dreamers might end on a bitter note

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She was optimism

And I was the kind of pessimism,

That was acid on hope.

In being friends, I saw

the potential of a convert

But in her impatience

she saw eternal bondage.