No you.

To my home,

I went to watch a movie tonight. My friends sat on my left and on my right, sat an empty seat. Perhaps it's set, only you can hold that place. 

I cried during. And I held the empty cup holder as I did. The screen played and my tears, with my cheeks, did too. How content you feel, to be able to give in completely. An uncanny sync between those scenes and my brain images. I bent my head towards you, onto the imaginary shoulder of yours. And I held myself as I shook by my own heavy breathe.

A queer bliss, walking back alone. No one to hold hands with. Let me tell you, going blank whilst you cross the road, isn't all that Bollywood afterall. 

I held my coffee mug, with as wide a palm as I could. I tried my best to compensate for the warmth of your hand.

I looked back just once, as I entered the gates. To say goodbye for tonight. I must practise. Someday. Someday, you'll be (t)here, waving back.

There's hope.

Isn't there?