sometimes love may look like this

i had seen you after a long time

you in your dirty, unwashed jeans
and kurti,
you with your satchel like bag,
you with your hair let lose
that hung like black clouds
at your waist,
you and your doe like eyes.

every intake of breath was
like an icicle crashing
on its tip from a frozen ceiling-
breathless beauty.

we walked to the curb and sat
on the broken graveyard stones.
playing with your toe-ring, you said,
"mora saiyaan gaan ta te, all that
i want to do is the tatkaar to its beats."
i didn't know what a tatkaar is and that
did not bother me.  but funny, that you
should say to me "mora saiyaan
moh se bolena." it rarely that i hear
your voice.
i didnt know what i tatkar is and so
i stared at my feet.