Februari 27, 2016


If it was easy, to leave and to understand;
without telling how you were,
without asking “are those ok?”,
without pretending about what we had.

Call me a numb,
a dumb,
even the biggest liar
you’ve ever met
you’ve ever dated.

Have I shared those night stories?
Have I told you about others?
Are those late-night-calls keep you awake?
How if all ifs that we made are blooming?
How if all truths we talked are coming back?

It may be,

                          (a.d. 2016)