People come,
People leave.
We get stuck
In the memories we weave.
I pull out a cigarette
And turn around
To ask you for the lighter
Only to find
Your absence.
My unlit cigarette
Silent life.
I m tired of this
Every night.
I miss your non sensical chatter.
I miss your unbaked cake batter.
I know we will meet later
But do I still matter?
YOU ARE READING
Just Another Book
PoetryA notebook where I collect all the poems I've written. ©Debanjana
