Everything Else

I know I couldn't sleep without writing this. I have never been so frustrated with myself.

Everything Else

Maybe.

Just maybe, I'd get to feel Your hand's soft touch soon.

Maybe I'd run a river on cheeks,

which You'd probably take pleasure in.

Maybe I wouldn't feel hollow by then.

And maybe, we'd link fingers again

as we glide through everything.

I miss hearing

Your laughter, Your gentle voice,

saying Whose I am.

And maybe you're repeating it

though I hear everything else

but You.

I miss You. And here I am, so manhid to whatever You want to say or want me to feel.