The luv that lasts is never truly romantic.

I am not promising forever, but luv lasts better than love.

Half-hearted convos crowded her phone. Thoughts that were never hers replied to concerns that were never his.

Something feels comforting even when everything seems off.

Yet she seems to go back to texts of another, someone whom she calls her even when they fight.

He never noticed how she felt Neither did he ask about her day. He lived in the bulleted version of her.

The paper-perfect man. She lived in the illusion of him.

Soon, the ink started fading the paper yellowing

The perfect image vanished along With the perfection that walked away.

One constant letter appeared while two vanished.

Amidst the imperfection rose a luv that stayed.

Vaani…