This monsoon afternoon is a memory
and as I laugh, he kisses me again.
The window glass is laced in droplets,
my *******,
pressed against the window pane.
The fragrant earth and lust in the air.
I have company but I am all alone.
The hollow in my heart, my gasping breath
the silence is filled with soft moan.
Yes of course, you can call it love.
Love can be a fun game.
Misery is not misery,
unless you give it a name.
The afternoon has ended long back
but it still hasn't stopped to rain.
This monsoon evening is a memory
and as I cry, he kisses me again.