Every time I called,
While you were moving further away
The dark and yellow city breeze
Choking your lungs.
The confident hand on your shoulders
Choking your heart.
You answered my call and said,
“I’m actually nearing you
Don’t worry, you are mine”
And in chorus
Celebrated another checkmate
While you counted
“This one takes the count to ninety-nine”
Contributed By: Sandal Sen, email@example.com