Sound rather like it hurt to write

storiesofmigrant

I needed to love you more.
Spend longer hours caressing your curls,
Driven around in cosier comfort of colder climes,
Lost and discovered each in the shrubs of the tea estates,
Shopped in exclusive malls for rare perfumes,
Sat by the beaches, listening to the waves,
Drenched our unread sorrows in coffee houses,
Read Lawrence and Hardy in sips and turns,
Philosophized in admiration of silence,
Swayed on the hammock defying the sun,
Played the guitar , notes that touched deep,
Stepped in reams of dreams, in tango taps,
I hesitated the, I regret now,
This is but a retrospect.

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