you.. who had built a small world all around them.. who was content, with life and with the world,
you, who had learnt and taught, kissed and fought,
you, who stayed up several nights just to know their most irrelevant and whimsical of thoughts,
you, who thought knew them the way only you could,
you, who after everything, pretend to have recovered, only to realize that it has gotten worse,
you, who had believed love is eternal, unconditional, can only now call it superficial,
you, who had burnt every memory, every memoir, every little evidence of their existence, except for that one little thing, which you might never be able to let go of, no matter how much it hurts to seeing it lying there, staring at you, haunting you with past moments...
you, who would have ben by their side, all they had to do was call
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