Every tiny strand of this miniscule breeze
rummages through my bones, whispering voicelessly to drown in the unknown.
The kiss of light, is a birth of a memory.
The movement of tongue, is a voice of a dream
The feel of fingertips, is a breath never tasted.
Tell me how to forget all of them
and still exist, like a night without a moon.
– Shashank Bhardwaj