Some days you sit in your balcony, in those dim lights.

I mean, why not?

There's that romance in that ambience and you scribble line after line about the one that got away.

Only to tuck them away in that book from when you were in college with him; in that attic you never visit.

I mean, why?

There's that nostalgia in that attic that makes you so claustrophobic that even tears can't find space in your ever obedient eyes.

So, you bite your lip. Almost tasting the bittersweet. You bet that he's in his office, with that one silly expression. That one that he used make when he's linking things in his super computer head. Well, he was clever. You bet he still is, so clever.

I mean, why not?

He's the same. Well, at least you wish. You beg. You wish that he's doing well. So well. That he's got everything he ever needed, if not more.

I mean, why not?

You bet he thinks you either hate him or your memory faded like you promised. You wish he knew. You wish he knew it all. Only if he knew, he's the reason. The reason you sit in the dark even when it scares you. Scares you senseless.

The reason you write half incomplete poetries and stories about him and you.

I mean, why?

Some days, you don't even feel like getting up. Other days, you don't feel alive. You hope he's not feeling this. You wish, you pray to the god he never believed in. Pray that he's doing well. So so well. Because you know that he deserves it. He deserves it all.

Some days, you wonder how he is, some times you dail his number but never have enough guts to let the call connect. Many times you type texts to him, only to post them on a stupid unsent message forum hoping that he's still here. Somewhere. At least, you wish.

I mean, why?

Why do you do this.

Why did you do that.

Why do people like you love.
Or, why dont you love completely.

You and me,

We don't fill our empty and hungry hearts.
We cannot (?)

We only try to fill in the holes in the sponge of our ever greedy hearts.

just to-
fill

those blank, lifeless, empty pages.

I mean, why?

Did you forget?

only to tuck them away in that book from when I was in college with him; in that attic I dare to never visit.