No title here

Sleep is for the weak.
I can do without it,
Just like how I can do without celebrations. Or you.
It's hard, but does it matter?
When the only thing left is remnants'
of the past,
and how things used to be.
Of carefree texts and random calls,
of banter over numerous cups of chai,
of sharing doughnuts and fighting over chips,
arguing over who gets the last piece.
Love changes,
so do people,
where once they cared too much,
now they don't; not at all,
where once I asked them to be careful,
guarded in my embrace and affection,
it was like a gust of wind
that came and blew me away,
swept me off my feet,
swirled and gusted all around me,
raged fiercely for nine months,
only to dump the belongings in
an unknown place,
where dark trees loom
and strange faces peek out at me
from the mouldy cupboard.
Black eyes, wild hair,
crusted lips, fingers beckoning
me to a far-off place
of silence and desolation.

Song of the Day: 'Pachai Nirame' ('Alaipayuthey')