The oceans white meaningless surf is touching my feet.
You are long gone.
A blur uneven footprint of yours is still there on those weak sands.
And a broken nail too.
I can sense, that invisible stream is going uphill now breaking all those mystic smoke over it.
Yes I tried to wear my watch with its face on the inside of the wrist.
It worked for a while.
I touched ur lips once, breasts once, heart also once.
It’s hollow now. That mystic smoke is filling inside it.
That footprint is washed to its core.
The last sigh is coming.