I still carry the book you spilled your coffee on,
And then apologized with all the uncertainties in your eyes.
I wanted to tell you that I didn’t need that combination of syllables,
All I needed was, ‘I will give you my favorite book. And you can spoil that.’
I remember the time,
When you held my hand and said you won’t let go, but still you did,
As if you never meant it.
I wanted to tell you that I didn’t want your ‘I won’t let go’.
All I wanted was you to mean it.
Hardly did you know how I would have treasured that love,
That scar of the kiss on my lips,
And that passion in your eyes when they rested on mine,
And the smile on your lips when they found my ears and you bit them slowly,
whispering, I won’t let go.
And yet you left me, leaving me in agony,
Lost in your soul,
Kissing the stale coffee on the pages,
The pages you once spilled your coffee on.