Affection

It's 4 pam
& i am at my raven desk,
turning my scars into love poems.

It is another season in July when rain moonwalk on window glasses- in the same deserted diary I smudged my first break-up poem;
I called out to my ex I could not bring back with metaphors.

//

I know the terminologies of a defunct love.
I.e: late replies/ 12 missed calls & 3 failed dinner nights.

//

I have known the taste of rotten heartbreak,
It whirls your tongue into a broken hymn with bruised notes.
I do not want to be a broken piece of another love.

I want to scrutinize the moon with you when it rolls itself from the dusk- to another twilight.
I wished to count the colours of the rainbow; whispering "I Love You".