The Leftover Me

By Shruti Shah

he came.

he sat.

I talked.

he looked at me.

he continued looking at me.

the first thing he talked about

was the CAT exam he appeared for.

And

all throughout;

the minutes at Tea Post,

I talked about how much I missed

him.

All I talked about was how

much I loved him.

All he talked about was

how much he didn’t.

Abhi Na Jao Chod Kar

played in my heart

as he drove off.

As he drove off

without wishing goodbye,

all I could do

was bless him from far.

Now,

I don’t quite know

how much of me

is the real me

and how much

corrupted.

I don’t quite know

how much to expect

of people I know

as world has quite

strict rules for that.

I don’t quite know

The people I loved

ever really loved me.

The leftover me

writing such words

as these;

how much of that

is the real me

and how much of that

corrupted?

By Shruti Shah