Entitlement to your lips

In the world where no one has any right over other,
I felt entitled,
Entitled enough to say that you were mine.
And I shouted at top of my lungs in the midst of road.

The road with too many mouths and their jargons.
You were taken by me,
And especially your lips.
It’s cringey, I know, and too creepy but it’s ME.

Your lips are something which I feel entitled to even NOW!
I see someone kissing in front of me and in background of my mind, I feel your lips.
Too cliché?
I knew.
And the irony is I never felt it.

Never felt, how they would press against mine.
Never felt, how steam would generate.
Never felt, how I would cry over this holding up.
And never felt, how would I look looking into your eyes while kissing.

Your lips are brown, brown enough to describe how you spent your college life like any other college child.
Cigarettes are actually amazing.
I tried that too, I did.
In lieu to experience what your lips experienced.
I feel as if I am that entitled like I was entitled to mother’s breast when I was a child.
I hate it to acknowledge that how audacious it sound,
But again it’s me.

Your lips parted always to reply,
And mine told you a different tale and then,
Then the last time it told me how you will be aloof,
Aloof with your own entitlement,
Your own chaos,
Which I don’t have any entitlement to.

I am okay, very okay,
Just that your lips still have some work left which none of us is entitled to.

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