Who?

after all these days...

It’s the feeling of suffocation mid-way

where you know you’ll die eventually but you struggle anyway.

I’m not suppose to pay attention

to what ever it is that concerns you,

because there should only be one thing, that I need.

So why am I yearning for you now,

why do I see you on the other end

Of my blurry vision,

crescent eyes and warm gaze.

maybe I’ve had enough

of the

What if’s,

and the what could haves,

and the fairytale-like expectations formed from

heaps of glittering madness.

Who was he, how was he, what was he?

Who could you be?

What should you be?

And how do we be

the inexpensive dupe,

the low maintenance replacement,

the non-toxic substitute;

that I needed for a change?

Who are we?