@ZoyaAnsari 26 May 2021 more from that month

Maybe, I had written too much about you. Too much that your presence already lingered on the tip of my pen. I carved too much fairytales about us that I could no longer recognize the lies beneath those stories. I had written too much of you that your name already smelled like my very own poetry, and whenever I looked at an empty sheet of paper, I'd unconsciously draw your smile in my mind— the smile of that version of you that I created in my fictions. I had written too much for you that I already had to remind myself from time to time that I also needed to save some ink for the people who'd be willing to bleed for me— something that you would never do.