i should’ve realized it sooner.
you don’t finish your omelette at the morning anymore. and it always ended with “i have to go now,” with no forehead kiss.
you don’t call at noon anymore. i’m not getting used of this new habit; not rambling to you about little — little things such how annoying my opposite chair in the office was.
you don’t complain about how strong my Miss Dior perfume anymore. it’s strange to see you don’t scrunch your nose and how you just get along with it.
you don’t even finish our movie marathon anymore. the casual discussion afterwards is now gone, gone.
things changed. here and there.
you did see it coming, no?
did i see it coming? no.
now please, spare me a moment. go home, come home.
talk it out, talk it through.
go home, come home.
the table is all set. your favourite seafood soup and cola with half ice in the glass.
go home, come home.
as i am here waiting. staring at the moon (that shaped like your smile) and whisper my little prayers to them,
“no. not him, too. i’m not ready to lose him yet.”
ib: she looked up at the sky and whispered, “take anything away from me, take it all if you want to; but please — please, let me keep this one thing,”
(from: the universe of us — lang leav)
