Why do we love
to think during

wee hours of a person

who never cared

to miss us?

Why as if it’s

the most natural

thing to ever happen?

To wake up on

the same time,

for the same reason

to the same person?

Like it’s an un-kissed

kiss,

waiting to be done,

yet never did.

So it’s only imagined.

That moment,

every dawn when

our soul is waiting

to be undressed

by the person we

always think of.