I love our conversations
that made music
out of hushed syllables,
that were never planned
nor needed to be defined,
and yet reached the corners
of our hearts, so intricate;
I miss how we placed
word after word,
revealing secrets
and emotions innate;
there were questions
that answered themselves
and those that sought none;
when the sound of your name
hangs on my lips
like a song I want to remember,
So badly after
Want all your blissful hugs:
How could someone be
This much essential
Sometimes , I think
You are out of my potential
In the very end , the thing
That matters most
Is that, I want
You as my life’s host

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