Old fashioned way. The romantic way.
|You went away, you wanted everything back. You gave me all my stuff back.
But could you give me my smell back? Yes my smell, the one you used to inhale so intoxicatingly every time we hugged.
And the your laughter which was caused because you heard me laughing and you just couldn't help but laugh along me because somehow, my happiness made you happy. Can you return that?
Or, what about the infinite words I said to you daily telling you something or the other? The words you listened only to reply, not to understand, but nevertheless words. Each one spoken with such meaning and such feeling I've never poured into anything else but words said to you.
Or the heart, my heart, which you took with seemingly truthful promises of safekeeping. The heart which never stopped beating at the worse of times, I gave it to you. The one I had locked away. But I opened up, and felt you like a summer wind. The one with floral breezes and good memories. I did not knew it was what it came out to be. I did not knew the summer wind would turn into cold winter harshness. The particularly cold one which takes everything away and leaves you naked and shivering. Alone to die. I did not knew you would leave. So if you are giving me everything back because my things would remind you of me, then, could you give me my heart back? The one you left around lying somewhere here. The one you've left broken and with deep wounds. So injured, so deeply injured, but still a heart. A strong heart.