From The Old Journal

On the page of my old journal. I wrote down how I feel about you. As I pour my feelings about you something is clearing up. No wonder why I fall. You are similar to me but also different. I have no intention of turning you to something like me to be called perfect in sync love. But I love you because you completed me. All that is on my mind is ‘if you feel the same way about me.’

Thinking keeps me insane. So I tie my hair up. Clean up my messy room room. Hoping to temporary forget all about us. All gather my shits together. But your eyes, smile and scent are all glued on my being. Our meaningless jokes, talking back and forth, our argument to what movie should we watch. Our conversations to what would be our future is repeating like a broken tape. Replying the same all over again.

I keep thinking of our last moment. There was no goodbye. I didn’t expect our ending to be like this. Not even in my wildest imagination that I shall be standing holding my favorite flower which you also love because simply they are my favorites. I’m not fine. Never will be as I lay the sunflowers on your grave.


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