Messy Bun

Slow

I walk by your house everyday.

Tiny burden on my shoulder,

Munching away all the hassles

between my jaws,

While I hear you chirp 

in your white washed room 

smelling probably of loneliness 

decorated by some fancy glitters 

you call your family.

You blow away the mist

that climbs up in the air every time,

from that old coffee mug of yours,

lost in some old thought 

till you realise you've blown too much 

and the liquid has turned cold 

just like your numbered days.

I'll be you someday.

______

Hello! 

(after months)