I am just words. The ones that used to drift in through the windows of your dreams on starless nights. The ones you once danced with in the mango-stained monsoons. The ones in which you first saw my face. Destined to be loved. And hated. I am the same words. The music for which is lost in a maze that's lost in memories of pain. The taste for which you lost because they wanted to fill your hours forever. The ink for which you spilt because the colour never changed. I am still just words. Replaceable, and replaced by the dictionaries whose covers promised more. Beaten and battered by the pens and matches you used to erase me. Hollow and unfeeling. Ever yours. Never yours. Yet feeling hollow and unfeeling. I am the words you erased Before you read me. Follow @diaporesis