Sitting in a corner of what used to be the quaint haven where we would lay and share our thoughts and dreams in the chilly wee hours of dawn...

I suddenly caught the scent of your cigarette in the air and it sent me down into a spiral of what if's and could have been's.

I sat in a corner, gobbling down cup after cup of my favorite coffee blend, staring at my phone every now and then thinking of you...

Hoping that there was still a part of you that thinks of me, too.

I sat in this corner, holding my fourth cup in one hand and whiskey on the other, waiting for that phone to ring, waiting for you to miss me.

Somehow I can feel that you're doing practically the same thing at this very moment.

Yet instead of waiting for me, you smoke one stick of cigarette after another probably trying your best to forget me.