Still living in the past

Your good morning
used to greet me

as part of my

morning routine

and sweet dreams

as a part of how I

end my night.

And every day

I am waiting for a

beep in a hope

you’ll text me

like how you used

to do before.

But time never moves


for me to have you

back; it’s moving

that much torn us apart.

I’m still living in the past.


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The Poetess
Erratic. Playful. Poetic.

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