I reminisce on the leftovers of our memories, 
Half vivid. 
A little less bittter from when it was March. 
Just like my coffee, I lied that I liked it bitter. 
I still write though,
About music, flowers and yellow. 
And sometimes words of your beautiful feet
Dance on my note paper. 
And I'm okay, 
I'm learning to priorities the perpetual 
thoughts of self doubt as minor 
Still, sometimes I miss you at dinner. 
This poem won in Instagram Weekly Contest held by @delhipoetryslam on the theme 'Breakup'

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