My heartbreak is three years, two months and a week old,
i never told you bu
when you left me,
i started counting days for your return and strangely,
the chasm you left inside me metamorphosed into guilt where my love was buried by myself,
for myself,before it could reach you.

i know,
you have replace me with some other woman now
i saw you both last night
holding each other on the bench
which was once reserved for two of us.

you tell me, he calls you eight times in a day
i wish, i had done that too
because
i knew, you had a heart for lengthy phone  calls,
loud laughter,
midnight stories and
warm kisses.
i wish, i had kissed you back then
when you had confessed you love
to me at 2 am 
with teary eyes and guilt in your voice.
tell me, why men are always too late at doing good things?

you loved my birthmark,
my scars,
my past,
my mother,
 my ex boyfriend's name,
my pet's name,
and
yet i never asked you why?

i know, you had told me that you wrote poems about
me,
i wish, i had read them once
because
now, i find another man in your verses,
tell me, what should i do to be your poetry once again?

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