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Muted Conversation VIII

I wanted to make love with your words.
I wanted to caress them, savoring the cracks within your mind.
maybe I did, maybe not.
But one thing is certain, I almost fell in love.


They say the mind of a writer is a vast labyrinth of imaginations
intertwined with memories from yon past.
and i think its true,
because your words and your looks have the same hue.


I would sit down beside you and ponder why I never knew you earlier.
Maybe time and chance may have happened to us before now.
but what if it never happened.
I would stare into your eyes and see my scars in them
and I would begin to wonder if we were twins in an alternate dimension of reality.
or maybe what I see is a mirage.


I would hold your hands and read the lines within and begin to see reasons why
you act the way you do,
I would tell you and you would call me a diviner of some sorts


A soothsayer or a prophet and we would laugh into silence.
Then i would touch your lips, designed with scars.
i would want to caress them with mine,
but hey, this is a public place, and with my shy self,
recoil into composure.


I would encourage you to write more,
because writing helps to ease the pain.
While Dark Knight snubs Lady Mysterious.
I would recline and see how it all plays out.


Maybe your life is a movie I'm yet to produce.
Maybe adventures would bless us with places to explore.
Maybe we would find ourselves dancing in sensuality, into one night.
Maybe just maybe, you would fall in love with my mind.


Just land with your legs, if you do.
I almost broke my neck while falling once upon a time.


#ConversationsOfAQuietMadman

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