too much has been said.. enough hasn’t been said.. two different theories swirling in my head of what was what ifs what could’ve been.. i analyse every fragment every segment every nuance to such tiny infinitesimal detail that the subject remains foggy to me.. i am now beginning to forget the subtle art of being you and the feel of your touch.. if only i could let the memory last as alive as it was yesterday or even the day before.. where every pore on my skin breathed your name and would stand up in attendance the minute you laid a fingertip anywhere on me..

your addiction
akin to
substance abuse