Lost Soul

You asked me to write about love. I just puffed my cigarette as it draw circles in the air. Honestly, I don’t have any guts on how to respond. Even if you would ask me how did we end up like this? I just don’t how? -- Or why?
I can’t utter any words. But those bottles of liquor explain how I sober every night. If you only knew how my pillow neglects my tears and how my blanket couldn’t give me a warm hug anymore. I even don’t know how possible it is that I let days passed by without eating although I was hungry and craving for your presence. And every time I go to the shower to ease the pain; these walls can’t talk but keeps whispering your name.
I know you’ll get confused if these will what I put into words about love. But it’s because when you ask people about love, they will tell you about heartbreak. When I hear about heartbreak – I remember you.
I stopped puffing my cigarette as I looked at you and wrote –
“YOU WERE THE BEST PART OF MY FAVORITE BOOK WHERE I PUT ROSES AS BOOKMARKS YET I WAS JUST YOUR BLANK PAGE”.