dear hand
don't look for a congruent hand
as the only congruency you can find
is you, yourself
look for congruent palm lines
look for a similar hand
a hand
that is firm enough
to not let you go
yet
gentle enough
to set you free
a hand set
that amalgamates
the feeling of union
and liberation
a hand
that becomes one with you
without consummation of fingers,
look for fingers
that adorn yours
not with gold, diamond or platinum
but with
opulence of love and affinity

-

dear hand
don't whisper sweet nothings
i know you are looking for a congruent mate
a mate
a hand
which has a combination of X and Y chromosome

for unknown reasons
you are comfortable around strange hands passing by
not giving you a single look
but dear
there are hands
at least a pair
made explicitly for you
hands
which instead of being a burdensome handshake
become your permanent nesting place

-

Material in my nose,
Water in my eyes,
Saliva droplets in my mouth,
Couldn't find their inverse.
They wanted to ooze out a solution,
But something made their determinant zero,
Something was stopping them,
Something was making them uncomfortable.
Then, a chilled glass of water did the magic,
It made them non-singular,
Made closed eyes wet,
Made nose empty,
Helped me sneeze.
Nostril poop was great and milky green,
Eyes and mouth deserved 'kudos' for passing transparent urine.
That "Achhian" sound without methane was breathtaking.
Was that solution unique?
Anyways,
No more constipated expressions,
No more constipated face,
Only gratification,
Only solace.

-

Expectation
Rashi:- God, am I related to you?
God:- Yes, you are part of my region


Reality
Rashi:- God, am I related to you?
God:- Yes, you are my deleted neighbourhood

-

With your perfect geometrical figure
That tapers smoothly from a flat base
To your spiky sublime periphery
You bring me a sigh of euphoric tranquility.

As I uncover your conic sections
My insatiable hunger for you lengthens.
My lips first make a tangential nibble
Then I savour your first hyperbola without any struggle.

Analogous to the ceiling function
You have a blissful balance
A drizzled infusion
I love it when you are velvety smooth
But I experience catharsis
When nutty caramel conundrums play rough at your booth.

Your delicately converging to zero
My hands becomig null, void and hollow
I wish you had more height
More slant height.
I wish you had more area
More volume.

You are ice, I am fire
Nothing else can alleviate my starving quagmires.
You mend my heart's throne
My luscious Butterscotch icecream cone.

-

He loved me even before I was born but I didn't love him back. Is there no relation between us or is that lacking symmetry?

He gives me an infinite order. Doesn't he want me to converge or is this his way to teach that sky could be my limit?

He applies an unbalanced invisible force on me. Is he helping me to accelerate or he doesn't want me to continue with my uniform pace?

He says he is God. Is he a soul without bounds or the concept of bounds doesn't apply to his discrete profound?

-

He proved a theorem without using any definition, postulate, lemma and axiom.

Is he a wonderful mathematician or just a phoney diplomat?

-

It was my first teen,
Event that happened was unforseen,
Event that made me strong,
Event that made me weak,
Event that made me a living streek.
I wished a fractal for you and me,
But you walked away from me.
I asked myself a million times
"Why is she being prime?
Is she playing mime?
Or have I done any crime?"
You never gave a reason for your divergent behavior,
I became Euclid's postulate debunker,
And never tried to get a circle for my diameter.
People lecture about getting grips with a romantic breakup,
However, none taught me how to tackle a friend's break-up.
For 7 long years,I contemplated about your uncanny ministry,
I wanted to see you again through my axis of symmetry.
As a valedictory gift to this teen,
Concerning you, I'll never wean.
I would ascend to once again believe in concept of "Best Friends".
For my diameter, I'll find a circular godsend.

-

When I am lost in 4th dimension,
You take me back to the 3rd.
When I get frustrated with people's acute angle,
You remind me, it's not always a nice idea to wrangle.
You remind me, that there's a greater force,
And time will take its course.
When I am scared to walk on greatest integer function,
"You have eyes in front, only to look forward", you always mention.
You are the arrow that make my line segment a ray that has no termination,
You are my axiom that doesn't need any proof or validation,
You are a vector which bestow me with a direction.
Happy Father's Day to you, my source of inspiration.

-

She can't intersect with people
Some thought she's shy
Some thought she's egoistic
Some thought she's complex
Is she imaginary?
She admire the beauty of oscillating functions,
But neither she's one nor she's close to them.
She remains silent like origin,
Observing how every curve behaves,
When she shifts her origin not seeing your function,
She's not ignoring your junction,
She's just done with your fake conduction.
She now knows you used her when she reduced sparseness,
She admire clever entities,
She loves Pi, she love logarithms, she love exponentials,
But that doesn't mean she'll approbate your cunning trials.
She can't intersect with people,
Either she coincides or remain parallel.

-