Uni life,
supposedly a fresh new page,
yet.
Some things don't change.
Traces of you are like the pencil marks from the previous page, that gets imprinted onto the next if one wrote too hard on a writing pad.
It won't go away.
Irritated at first,
she'd slowly grow to not care about it's presence,
giving it minimal attention,
but it's still
there.
--
I'm loving this place,
the new environment,
weather
(fine, hate rainy days, but there's an atmospheric touch to them, chemistry achieved by the hazy rain and old buildings).
If only I could have someone to be with me all the time...
sigh,
lazy dreams.
B.
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