Friskier August Affair

Its August, our August,
of 2 mugs of coffee, in the dawn,
damped in your musty blanket,
talked in silence,
watching those counting raindrops,
through your cracky
glass window,
racing, and
as if they knew,
their ultimatum,
like us;
I gasped.

They say;
when you lose something,
search for it, in those places,
where you last saw it.
How I should justify,
a heart is just;
4 chambered;
a blood pumper;
sucking love;
hidden deeply.
How should I?
How can I?
Undo it?

They say;
you’ve to give love
to someone,
to get it back.
How I should justify,
I watered,
a wilted heart,
just like those,
wild plants,
on ruined buildings,
cracking every inch,
weakening it.
How should I?
How can I?
Undo it?

They say;
Universe reverts; what goes
comes back too.
How I should fool myself, that
bygones are bygones.
Does Universe actually makes
your star to shine,
among all those billions?
or will it make me
camouflage in the darkness
of unfathomable
Slurping a peg
of my broken solitude,
in the midland of darkness
with a mustier memory
and stories for



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