I wouldn’t lie that I don’t miss you. But I’ve never told you that I do, at least, not on your face. I have always shown that I don’t give a fuck about you, about your existence though deep down you’ve still stuck here in some corner of my heart, just the way you had left everything decades back. Everything is still there. Broken. Untidy. Lost.
Even after being so good at pretending, you’ve caught me lying to you. Always. Somedays when I am completely low, and exhausted from work and life, I feel you in me, within my soul. I get your phone call as if you are there watching me suffer from other corner of the world, trying to help me by asking my howabouts. How do you do that? When the world seems cold to me, when I don’t feel like speaking to anyone, or doing anything, you enter inside me without saying a single word, but just with your silence, and calm me down as if you’ve heard the unheard of me. All over again. Babygirl.
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