Souvenirs

                             Souvenirs       

                     
                  I guessed, (sorry, I was sure) that you were not like others. Not like others, who were thrown out of my life. I was sure that you were different, and I was so damn sure that you would pleasure me. I was convinced that every touch of your hands were not like others. I was positive about those little intimate talks we had. I was secure in your arms which held me taut, and laughing. All those times, you used to tattle to me about all those girls you supposedly did not care about, flashes in front of me every second I look at you. Every time I look at your face, which conveys no sort of that feeling. I still have in mind, those evenings, we spent together, my hands covered in yours, my head on your shoulder. All those times you used to hear to all of my brooding, I believed you. But I forgot, that believe itself had the word lie in it. I was happy while I was with you. And whenever, you used to listen to my hyper talks, and embrace me. I, unfortunately remember everything. I still recall those times, when you used to cuddle with me on your squishy bed. I loved you with all my heart, as you put your wet lips on mine. And your hands on my face, caressing it. And all those endless hours you spent with me, carrying me under your arms as I wept about things. And I know, I shouldn't recall this, but, I was induced that you actually seriously loved me, whenever you took my hands and once again, recited on how much you loved me. I was fooled. I believed you and I never imagined that you would leave me like this, wandering in search for a home of my own. You ran away now, leaving me with nothing but tears. You left me now, and my hands which once, you never were going to let go off. Myself, which, once upon a time, you relished. My body, which, long time ago, you treated with hugs and kisses. Every part of me is longing for you, your scent. 
               It is past now. It was a present, then, when I was not hysterical.