you look at me from across the room and all the metaphors begin to V A P O U R I S E volcanoes begin to B L O W out of proportion, vocabulary S T A G G E R S and the poet out of me spill some verses of an old rhyme. (mohabbat mai nahi hai farq jeene aur marne ka - in love there is no difference between love and death) the stars have aligned in concentric circles to bring us under the sky where we'd found our love in mediocre lullabies, where we'd lost ourselves in classic love of