By Dr. Yash Minaxi Joshi
I don't love you,
But my limbs don't know that
And want to reach up to your presence
As you stand around with your arms open wide
And hold you tightly.
I don't love you,
But my lips don't know that
And want to hold your lips in embrace
At the corners at the end of the street,
In cinemas in front of a bright movie screen
In parks, full of children and their parents
In all the places people deem weird
And in all those which we feel like it.
I don't love you,
But my mind doesn't know that
And wants to imagine all the scenarios
Where we are together,
Laying in each other's arms
And have dozed off in a way
That seems weird to other people
On the couch of your flat
Which you rented just to stay close to my place.
I don't love you,
But my heart doesn't know that
And wants to beat
To the rhythm your steps make
When you dance across the room
In your pink flip-flops.
I don't love you,
But my soul doesn't know that
And wants to be the other half of yours
On days when we lay silently
On the grass in places devoid of light
And far from city light.
I don't love you,
But I think I'm beginning to.
By Dr. Yash Minaxi Joshi
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