I lied. I’m still sad when thinking of you.

Feb 12, 2017 · 2 min read

I have so many things to tell. Would you listen? Would you put down your book for a while, and take me into your cuddle, on the sofa, and tell me you’d listen?

Be the kittens scratching the furniture and playing under our feet; be the sound of the street echoing from afar; be the window gets wet by the rain and shivered by the wind outside. Ask me how was my day.

Ask me with your baritone voice. With a little kiss onto my forehead, warm when your lips touch my cold skin, and my hair a little wet too. And you would not let me go so I won’t feel cold anymore. And I couldn’t resist to bite a little of your ear, and my nose on your warm cheek, and the question, of how was my day, gone forever in our heartbeat. Oh, I could feel your heartbeat. And now I put my hand on where those heartbeat be. I grab your shirt. The shirt you’ve always wore when you were feeling blue. And I see your eyes, questioning how are you feeling without even saying it. And you reply, you are okay, without saying it. We know it from how we look into each other’s eyes. Oh we would know it.

We would know it.

It’s just…

You are not here with me anymore. Even though part of me still believed that you are.


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