Probably a Memory

And when the moon will have dipped,

And there’s no one left to dance with,

You will remember me.

Sadly or not,

I won’t.


When you saw me as Rome

You came,

You saw,

You conquered.


And then you left.

You were never meant to leave,

I was never meant to be conquered,

This was never meant to happen.

Rolling My Eyes, Yet Missing a Beat.

I’ve never liked cliches,

Never consciously written one either,

But what can I say of those

That you’ve unwittingly introduced?!

I like them, I hate them,

I hate how I like them,

I’ve fallen for your clichés.

Heck! This sounds like one.

I can’t tell if you’ll stay

And usher those any further,

What I can tell is when you’re gone,

I’ll never go back to disliking those rather.




The Mistook Look

You look at him,

He looks at you,

That sweet gesture is enough for you.

This continues for a few more stations,

Until you’ve gotto bid adieu.

You walk up to the door

And notice with fret,

His eyes never followed your footsteps,

You look back to your seat and realize,

That look was meant for the girl behind.