note to me self.

 post it note.
never drink and call. it's depressing ,humiliating and embarrassing when you ..ugh. never never do that.

and then you realise it's gone, gone forever. It's just you . and the heartache that clings to you loyally.

more often its the alcohol that infuses with the juice of my 'rational thinking brain' and makes a fool out of my sane self. 'yeah'!

US

Once you asked me ‘I still remember the clothes you wore when you were leaving. Do you remember what you were wearing?’

 I laughed and feigned and said 'No'….

‘you wore shorts and a blue superman teeshirt.’

 A revelation I did not expected to hear

And it did make my heart glad.

I pretended not remembering all those ‘trivial’ details.

Did I not tell you ‘ I’ll never grovel in front of anyone’

I wanted to show you how strong I was in order to hide my vulnerable self.

Yet  I was actually dying every sec waiting for the call that never did

And rebuked myself for texting you ‘how are you’

You texted back ‘who is this’

And I cringed and hated myself for being so pathetic so desperate

I erased your numbers and I hated you….till I forgot that I should be hating you.

A skirmish ongoing within me

That desperate longing to hear your voice

The antithesis within that admonish my desperate pining to take that desperate measure to reach you again.

this is what I never told you

I remember your hold when we slept

Your warm embrace

Your sad sad eyes (did I tell you that they exudes sadness)

 Your fingers left indentions on my shoulder, in my hand, my body that I can never erase

I trace them every now and then and i still shiver

The song you mumbled and the songs you wanted me to hear.

The smell that still lingers in your towel that is now mine  

(No detergent smell can empower your naked scent

Its already indented in my five senses )

The look on your face when you dropped me off in the railway station

The ‘fare thee well’ farewell

So eager for a fresh start …now that I was leaving.

There I found it Maybe Now I should hate you.

scraps

Truth be told I don’t miss you any more

How can I miss my own heartbeat
when its constantly beating with a lubdub
reminding me of you without your follies.

us

winter made us clasp our fingers so tight
they fitted like the puzzle pieces of a broken heart
summer drifted us apart
the puzzled broken heart scattered all over.