On a particular kind of night,

Waves crashed across the periphery of mind

Like someone is holding a whisky glass

And cascading the drink from left to right

Making sure each corner of the glass feels the sensations- the burn and the mingle with the glass

Before it reaches the tongue and evaporates objectivity

Splashing splashing and dribbling across

Trying not to spend itself too fast

Asking you “let it happen slowly”

– rupika moitra

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