every night
i end up writing something about you-
the way your lips moved along with mine
to voice our poetries together
the way your hands slipped around my waist
to lead me through a slow dance
the way your eyes twinkled into mine
to make me want to write something about them;
about you-
i don’t want to write about you.
i’m done with making you the ink
of every phrase i scribble
of letting you be the canvas of
my artwork
it’s like
this poem isn’t mine anymore
it belongs to you
you are the words in it
and, you are it’s heart;
our heart,
It calls for you
because, i’m too scared to do it
on my own-
call for you.
i can’t let you have more pieces of me
than you already do
even though it’s me
who’s still holding onto
your memories
your touch
your voice
your clothes
your scent
you.
here
here is the only place
i have you for me
it’s like the world goes in a blur
and, it’s just you
me
and us
holding onto each other
grasping
clutching
not letting go.
but, it’s just me
who’s hugging
my memories of you
grasping, clutching-
not letting go.
the pen slips my grip
your warmth escapes me
i did it again.
i wrote about you.
again.
and like every other night
tonight
I end up writing about you-
but i don’t want to.

i don’t want your hugs anymore
-Manasvi.