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by Ananya Sarkar
(Kolkata, India)

Your lips, my neck
My fingers, your hair
Your fingers, my waist
My lips, your ears
Silence punctuated by rustling clothes
Bodies bending, overlapping, merging into one
The moments freezing in time
Returning to haunt us years later
When distance has thickened our forgetfulness.
You’re scribbling away on your desk
on a rainy day
And the memory nudges you like a feather.
And as I thread my way to work
Fretful, anxious to be on time
It suddenly caresses my hair,
And I look to see
All the faces on the road
become yours...


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