As I sit down to pen my thoughts

i miss the ink spots

and smudges on my fingertips

as i chew on the fleeting,

elusive line that would explain

what i am feeling.

They are like the friends we make,

who are but a memory

from that part of us, which exists

but is lost

in the present tense

while habits have taken control

of our routine day and night role.

I search for that name

in the contact list of my cell phone

the one i want to talk with

is now long gone…

erased from the memory

of the sim and the phone

and i lie here

hoping she would hear

and we could talk in our dreams

where time stands still

with no call waiting.