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"I have known music to be her timeless reverberation in a forlorn corner of my soul; just when life was closing down upon me with its pangs of haunting silence."
"Hope is the point the 'world within' comes to an equilibrium with the 'world around'."
"The cold that my body feels can be comforted by pullovers of our choices. It is the winter that comes back each year, inevitably; is how we are connected on the face of time. A sweet suffering of forever..."
"My poverty, I know, was glamorous because trading you, my love, for a better life is outright heinous."
"Love was the day when she drank and I felt quenched."
"Life, ever since, had been one gripping tale. Your happening gave it a genre."
"Want is the soul's desire. Need, the mind's crave. Love, thus, I believe, is a bit of both."
"Art is how you lie to the world without ever feeling sinned."
"Sorrow is true and beyond the powers of healing, when you can taste the oceans on your lips."

Will You or Will You Not?

Will You or Will You Not?
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Monday, January 09, 2017 |


Upon your return from the desert odyssey, facing the bedroom mirror as you dig the comb of resolve in your matted strands and a golden sprinkle of cold sand pours from your head, like a fine rain of our memories, or when the late sun sneaking through the curtains awakens my dried kiss on your nape; will you genuinely care retracing your steps back to the cold nights of Jaisalmer, into the heart of your solitude, where we always met in thoughts of longing? And lie down on the desert floor may be, inside your tent with my omniscience beside you, and watch the moon enthral a village of stars gathered on the sloping roof, with its silver humming of love songs? When the feral night winds of my desires fill your skirt and your thighs contract to a carnal bliss, will you not unlace the silken knots on your bony back and lie naked in submission, feeling my shadow climb your body? Will you not open your arms to the emptiness of your world, and behold my ghost in the sheltering warmth of your bosom, honouring a love that we, alas, couldn’t be?


Will you ever cherish returning to places we had together been, I wonder, even if it is with your lips in a different mouth, or simply lean into the sun cracked mirror of your reality and vapour the glass in a hard breath of denial, calling me ‘a fucking mirage' ?

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