To Kanishk, with love

You wept the night we met.

Did you know we laughed when you left?

Flecks of his spit

glittered on my lips. Like water on steel.

A year passed by

before you learnt how flirting works.

We didn't kiss. You missed.

I still favoured him. You were pissed.

On Mussoorie's sal stage, I

shivered in your grip. Not of the cold.

Of envy. Did you like

having yellow draped around your neck?

We romanced all over the valley.

You held me tight, in public, always

teasing me with your near kisses. Flecks

of your spit glittered on my lips.

Like water on steel.

Why don't we talk anymore?

Yours truly, 

Micro Phone