The tissues drank all the old monk

Spaces hold so much of air
Or may be
The air holds so much of space
It found itself on the side table
With two sitting silently but together
With two behind, fighting for each other
With one besides
With so little of light
And so much of thoughts

I had used all the tissues
Some lying as paperballs
Some lying as roses but torn
Some lying as boats but sinking in the old monk
Some landing on the table
As the aeroplane but empty and so much of air inside

I turn around all the gossip seems so loud
But all I hear is,
Please just sit with me
May be we were better together
May be she is the one 
May be I haven't found him
May be I won't reach anywhere
May be I have lost all but
May be a if, could fix it all 
If it came true.

All the ifs and buts were dissolving in front of me that night
But I lost my whole world 
In the torn white sheet of the tissue
Still dried but absorbing the pain in the eyes 
That I had poured in the Bacardi while drinking