coffee stains

withered

how many poetries
do i need to write
for me to bring you back
to life?
metaphorically
figuratively
you've been dead for a while already
where is the old you
the old us
i have been searching lately
have they rotten to the core
and turned to dust
am i still searching for a lover
or a love
that has already been over?
i tried to reach you-
went out my way just to see you-
again.
but you've grown distant
and it pains me to think
that it has grown into a disease so malignant.
our times together, for you
may have falter
but here i am, a fool
still clinging to it altogether.

i guess,
time
digressed
a little from us
into this mess-
dusted everything inside an old bookshelf
where the only one who's willing to read the books again is myself.
dear, i've grown frustrated
aleeady exhausted
from all my chasing
catching up my breathing
with all your running
and i'm almost
giving up now

but damn you- how?