Kiss



She leans on me with her thoughts, her curly hair kissing her face. Her hands rest on my knees and she keeps looking at me. The city has been washed with another round of rains and everything is clear, as clear as her deep coffee-bean eyes. She smiles away, trying to stop herself from opening up. While she is looking away, I  place the obstructing strand of hair behind her ear. She looks like the crescent moon in this cloudy night.

My own piece of moon, my own little piece of moon with her thoughts and hopes looks at me. Her smile is infectious, making my whole body, my soul, hers. I grab her hands and start kissing them, breathing her scent. 
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Aurindam Mukherjee