Neither by hook or by crook; I went by the book. She didn’t get it.it's no accidenthow we meet in thestore,the paradox of choicedo i find you, all thetime? or you make thefirst move, notjudgingby my coverholding me in silence, forhoursyou seize themomenttime, however, runs outdrunk on mywords you take mehomesometimes i wishi were the book you arereadingyou so want me toskip to the end,and don’t want it to endeitherlet there be spacebetween you andme, that li'l roomto readno more no less, unlessyou fall asleepand i slipthrough yourfingerslocked in an embrace, icount yourbeats, without yourknowingsometimes i wishi were the book you arereadingwithout havingto sayyou understandmy words, more thanwords andthe lack thereofWritten by: Rupesh Mandal

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