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Leftovers

'Ghalib' on his table.
Laughter, her self defence.
His small talks, her silence.
Sitting on the edge, oh the distance!
~

The crowd walked past us.
We stood there nowhere to go.
Look at the moon, she exclaimed.
I stared at her instead.
It was full moon a couple of nights ago.
My gaze shifted from her to the sky above.

What do you mean by abandonment?
I smiled, let out a sigh, and explained.
I need you here, she said.
And I need more time.
It hurts a little less than yesterday, a little more than tomorrow.
A pinch of faith in despair, hope in cynicism -- such is the clockwork.

~
A few leftover tears.
Doors to the heart shut, keys tossed.
It doesn't make any sense, she thought.
It's not supposed to, comforted loss.


Delhi, December '19. 

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