By Monosija Banerjee
The only time I come across you
Is in pictures and frames.
Your hands, not familiar to me anymore,
I have long forgot their touch.
They take care of a better woman now.
Our last day, your unmindful words
I miss our 12am liquors.
My songs, at the tip of your tongue
Your words, at the edge of my heart.
And I fall back into you
Sometimes, with the smell of your perfume
In my old clothes.
The smell of wasted breaths and raw skin
Tucked in the blue pockets.
Your secrets, my lies,
Hidden away in broken relationships;
Nobody would know us-
We are safe and sound.