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By Purvi Rathod

I'll wait for August again.

When it's 21, we'll talk for the first time.

27, and you sign my book. I'll make sure I have a better pen with me.

I'll wait for the sun to set so you can tell me your story again. Maybe we could end it differently.

We could wait till the night is done.

This time could play out a little differently.

You could forget your phone on the sofa, and I'd have an excuse to brush my hand against yours.

You could lie to me about different things this time.

22, and still waiting for your messages.

I'm still waiting for August.

When I'll see you around the same places.

When I'd be a little less me, and you'd be a little more you.

You'd rid yourself of your ties. I wouldn't rid myself of you.

24, and the wait isn't done yet.

I'm waiting for your watch again.

I'm waiting for August again.

By Purvi Rathod

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