Pratik
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The Morning SoliloquiesA Poem by Pratikp.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; color: #454545} There are daysWhen I add Drops of lavender In bone china c.. |
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Cigarette BurnsA Poem by PratikThe black, cavernous lesions Don’t you let them heal darling Let them smolder With the fierceness of stars Bleed, With the te.. |
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Of Dolls and Dolores - And Some Other MemorabiliaA Story by PratikHe finally found it. Rummaging through the panelled, oak-polished shelves of books, his eyes finally caught the name of the author: Vladimir Nabokov.. |
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The Ties That BindA Story by Pratik“In your life you meet people. Some you never think about again. Some, you wonder what happened to them. There are some that you wonder if t.. |
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ZsaZsa AvengesA Poem by Pratik"Happy Halloween" |
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Graham's MotherA Poem by PratikA mother's greatest sin |
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Rudimentary ParagonsA Poem by Pratik“There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more.” ― Mi.. |
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RetrouvaillesA Poem by PratikThere's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but eac.. |
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Innocence ~ A Conquered FortressA Poem by Pratik“Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of to-day. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from t.. |
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Wooden TearsA Poem by PratikDon't you just love those long rainy afternoons in New Orleans when an hour isn't just an hour - but a little piece of eternity dropped into your.. |
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