Threatening a spider web 
to be preserved is easier than 
loving you in my mother tongue.
Defining the authenticity of a cold pond 
over one's heart is easier than letting 
my still born breath 
to revolve around your mouth.
But, I choose to be the  pearl door knob 
that opens to the difficult road, 
atleast in my dreams. 
Because we have two Iives, 
one where am tongue numbed 
and the other where I romanticise nightmares.
In every dream, we are two gods 
holding each other, modelling for a painter,
so that in museums they can interpret
that we are holding each other's worlds.
In every dream, we are two pig pickets  warming up each other's hands, 
with shoulders close to each other, 
not really heavy with muscle memories.
In the other life, am a replaced machine, which violently moves over past 
to split it into two, so that I can give you one.
In the other life, am handful of earth where you try to grow a daisy, so that you can avoid the giddy atoms moving around you.
And while you move, 
my shadow flicker a little, 
because I am one of those 
who love and break in secrecy,
like a compromised metaphor 
with a poker face.

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