The Sunday morning stenched of alcohol,
I remember the last night; we met,
we drank, we kissed, we laughed. I felt home after a long time. As I was digesting all that my eyes searched for you and all I could eye was bottles and a photograph of yours. Last night was a dream, we were a dream.
We both have fucked up so badly that a mere sorry won’t do shit. But sometime in between, a moment, I loved you completely and so did you and the rest was just confetti. From strangers to lovers, from him to that, we are now everything except together.
I tried to fix the broken dish carefully arranging and then rearranging it again and again until it looked like before and moment it looked, it shattered. Fuck, atleast I tried. This can’t end like this, I won’t let it. If you are reading this, I just want you to know, I love coming home to you, even if it’s just a dream, even though we are just a dream.