At the touch of each other's love,

We are becoming poets.

Spilling ink,wetting the papers.

Twain the moisture of ink and drops from memories.

Embracing the past.

Cold comforting the present.

Expecting the future.

Adorning our diverged ways.

Eventually, realising,

We are parallel lines.

Travelling with a hope to meet at the infinity.

Withal,we are intersecting lines.

Who met earstwhile ,

And,then fell apart for the eternity.

Separations define us.

At the touch of each other's love,

We are winning over love,

By loosing the togetherness.

Distance is the name of our existence,

So is the touch of each other's love.