Midnight Scribbles

By Oishwaria Mukherjee

Don't know what hurts more,

Thinking that you're gone, or that you aren't.

I feel so spent, trying-feeling-believing.

The time we first met.

The last time, both at the airport.

Even now you're smile - give the butterflies,

Your eyes - shine on me like the sun,

Your words - defines why I feel beautiful.

With every promise, I embraced a void.

Feeling like a storm that wreaked havoc.

Beware of the ones who claim to be content alone,

For they have seen what happiness feels like,

Despite the truth,

The pain they endure,

Is endless.

By Oishwaria Mukherjee