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I still do.

In nights like this, when heavy rain
lashes this city from a depression in Bay of Bengal
which was earlier a cyclone...
I am busy trying to work my life out.
But the sounds of rain at night
only get me back to that one late summer night.

Intoxicated by the spirit of our eyes,
We had just returned to your room.
Cosied into your never done bed
We clasped our hands and
tangled up.
Something inside me stopped me.
I was scared.
My pre-conceived ideas swarmed
in my sleepy head with the spirit.
We fell asleep.

We tried to behave normal morning after.
But nothing was ever normal after.

We were slowly falling in love.
Was it only me?
You thought I don't remember after the spirit moved out of me.

I remember, I still remember.
The affection of your eyes-- and your innocent laughter.
.that is the best memory I have of you.
The day I left, I had fallen asleep
to your laughter at some mindless TV comedy.
That for me was the idea of home.
And of waking up to a dog curled up in your porch.

And although oceans have flowed between us
And I have pulled a curtain between us
So that we stopped getting hurt...
( I wonder what kind of love
pulls you apart again and again,
and then collides you again and again?)
I do. I still do.

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