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Harshita Maheshwari

Abstract

5.0  

Harshita Maheshwari

Abstract

Almost A Lover

Almost A Lover

1 min
311


The hot air almost melted

The mystery my eyes had.

The black ball diffused

Into the almost pale white.

The trenches almost lost

Gravity sunken in the Kohl.


The shade has come out

As an almost grey as faded.

The nooks have stored an

Almost rear view of love.

The gloss they once had

Has almost lost to patina.


The shrill has almost been

Still to the closure of yours.

The bulge aspires now for 

Almost a frozen nerve network.

The pigments have almost

Justified the broken dreams.


The nightmares now remain

As an almost duplicate of 

Your gaze you once

Cast the spell with.

The winds have to slow down

For the rhetoric to come to rest.


Else it'll be an almost matter

Of seasons and the seasons

Here of love never are on their best.

I worry, if the heat this summer

Melts another part.

Because it's an almost tie

Between the head and the heart.


The ligaments almost are afraid 

To die for the binding fluid has 

Run out of the oxygen supply.

The ears this time needs most

Of the care for the exposure 

Love brings affects the sound

Of my breath through your air.


The dispersion should never 

Get its victim I pray, for your 

Colors are a mix of lies and play.

You're an almost set of 

Infinite senses and I'm an 

Almost a loser of them.


And if you agree to be the

Heatwaves this summer, 

I'd have become a lover 

Of the sand shapes then.


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