I Miss The Times When I Really Missed Me Poem by Irfan Habeeb A M K

Looking at a soulless screen,
scrolling through dump creations,
time passes
not as a gift,
but as something to be endured.

I still stop,
still open those screenshots of the past,
staring for hours
as if memory could wash me clean.

But the mind
it doesn't clear,
not anywhere near.

What a strange place to be,
stuck between forgetting
and holding on.

Actually,
I miss the times
when I really
missed me! !