“I dont know”
was my response
when you asked me if
I still love you

the world stopped
for the both of us
as I wondered on the thought
of me, being selfish
or being true
and yours upon the
realization that
maybe, just maybe
my love for you
is fleeting

neither of us was speaking
and the silence echoed
through the depths of my head
and you uttered
‘oh’

that moment, I knew
that you gave up
on me, and my inner
indecisiveness

I crumbled upon
the guilt of telling you
those words, so instead
I let my tongue do
the talking and said
'maybe'

cause it was never hard to say

but it is always hard to face

the reality of being responsible
to someone

as if I have to breathe
through somebody’s pair of lungs
and scratch the loneliness
with someone else’s fingers

we parted
I changed numbers

cause I had to stay afloat
on the clouds of solitude
free from attachments.

I could still see you.
The manner the wind tousles
you straight, unruly hair,
The firm grip of your spectacles
on your big nose,
That silly dance you do
whenever it rains,
The inside lines
of your wrist I used to adore - used to.

I could still feel you.
The weight of your arm
on my shoulders,
The dampness of your lips
on mine,
The irrational collywobbles
whenever you smile unexpectedly,
The heartfelt embraces
I used to long for - used to.

It's still you - used to.