Petty Vows

There are certain things that make me shiver, and someone calling out your name is one of them.
I dare not say I miss you but they say it reflects in my eyes.
Stands there a concrete edifice amidst happening outlets meant for the elite of the city; its floor tiles -ladened with our footsteps, windows still let sneak in the same old air that would bring along chill and petrichor in her favorite month of August.
Entangled fingers, yours and mine, veiled from the world just behind.
You said it was more than a fling, looking into my eyes for the first time.
No one but the doors did listen to our soft whispers. They now echo so loud that I’d be deaf and doomed if choose to stay anymore.
I can feel the warmth where you used to sit, can see you scribbling in your notebook with a funny frown on that pale face.
I know it’s a shame to be still stuck there but things unsaid, in midnight, keeps you awake.
As the term ends, I choose to bury the petty vow in a mystical urn.
I shall never return to that place, that part of the city, an enigmatic cave.

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