There is a hint of smoke in the air,
it has been a few hours since my smoke
I can see myself lying face down on my pillow
Its soaked and hid my tears for far too long
The pillow covers have crumples,
I never got to ironing them after all
Someone will probably burn them
At some point when they see it
Not like it would matter to me,
it is my favorite pillow though,
yet it won’t, I won’t need it,
I could never hold on to people or things
Things broke, and people broke me
You are people too, intermittently
Yet you mend me,
Your hurt brews my coffee
This translucent me pours a cup
I sit beside me, run a hand on my head
I wish I could wake me, talk to me
I haven’t talked to me in ages
I stole my own time to speak to you
You heard my voice, you heard my words
You read them, you held them too
Out of context, often than not
I wish I was you watching me asleep
In this permanence, clutching my phone
With the last dialed number being yours
In my last sleep before I hit the call button
Would you love me then? Or curse me?
Maybe either, but I could have a little of you
Or maybe have a little of you before it ended
Maybe I could have wished you one last time
A gentle Good Night, and the Sweetest of Dreams
No comments:
Post a Comment