I think I will write about you,
about our few days
spent in each other's company,
about I warming the chawal
and you watering the chicken on stove,
so that I get the gravy
and you shun away its chilly,
like you shunned my sudden advances
under your top.

You asked me
why don't I keep my house clean.
If I had, my clothes wouldn't have been
folded the way they are.
I don't touch them anymore,
fearing your careful touch
would be lost in my careless ones.
Now that you're gone, all I think is
how dearly I crave for your touch.

- हर्ष स्नेहांशु