Question

Not Just You—Us


You weren’t just a memory—
I lived you, breathed you,
in bike rides and riverfronts
kissed by morning dew.
2 years of “us” still echo
like a song never fully faded,
not one-sided, not imagined—
just paused, not yet jaded.
We were real—
your laughter, my late-night calls,
your voice on sleepy mornings
echoing through my halls.
Every chai we sipped
had a story steeped inside,
And every fight, every making up,
was love—not pride.
I don’t write to resurrect,
or rewrite the ending,
but some part of me
still finds comfort in pretending—
that maybe you miss a piece of me too,
now and then,
like I miss the way we felt infinite,
back when.
Tell me—do you smile
at our old songs on shuffle?
Do you pause
when a perfume stirs up the scuffle—
of shared glances, temple fairs,
and rain-soaked days,
when love was messy,
honest, and full of Lucknow ways?
I’m not chasing ghosts—
just honoring what we were,
because what we had wasn’t silence—
it was her and him, together.
If the universe crosses us again,
maybe we’ll laugh at all this...
but for now, I just miss us, not just you—
that’s the truth I won’t dismiss.