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May 2018
I dreamt of thy love in its faintest chances,
Showering from the ninth cloud of reverie.
When I stood the test for my affections,
't was a fool's confession of true love:
For I remained ever a lovelorn dame.
Didn't my eyes sparkle right?
Or the curves on my hip, not enough?
Did my words fall short of my love for thee?
Or my bearings in public a little rough?
Democratic are thine associations in flesh,
Deriving pleasure out of mindless affairs.
Whilst I am ascribed the proverbial taint,
I remain the sinner and thee ever a saint.
Our loves fail. But as Alfred Lord Tennyson says it: tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Ajey Pai K
Written by
Ajey Pai K  24/M/New Delhi, India
(24/M/New Delhi, India)   
   Karijinbba and Jayantee Khare
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