I have seen you look at the footprints
that my shadow leaves in the dark.
You thought I will never notice
but I see better when the lights are out.
I too have had my fair share of acquaintance
with that symphony of dark.
Those exact notes on which the sun weeps
on the demise of some distant star.
But then I don’t know what your eyes are searching for;
I am too far away from your cozy blanket.
And I suffer from what they call a ‘memory lust’
I can never forget what happened that night
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