i still sometimes whisper i love you
on my bedsheets
when morning comes without sunshine
and i still cant see the future without you,
that you wont come back
and breakfasts would just be me,
and crying first thing of the thought of second chances
that i dont want with someone new
because new days that come,
i still wish i had you
but all i am is alone with thoughts of tomorrow’s rain,
and hoping ill see you again
Do you still think about him?”
“Yeah.” I whispered. “All the time. But it’s worse in between moments when I have nothing to do, and I’ll remember all I did these past years was give him more than the extra time I had, you know. Time gives so much value on a person even when it’s wasted.”
He paused for a moment. With a deep sigh, he told me, “Does it still hurt?”
I closed my eyes briefly; he waited patiently before I could muster a lie. But these days it has just been so tiring to trick the people around me. And myself.
So I told the truth.
I nodded. “It always will.
I’ll come back for you.“ I whispered to myself. I was expecting he’d be standing there with his hand in his pocket, the lamp post striking his features that I have memorized to see even in the dark. He’d be waiting for me to look back so we can catch each other’s glance across the distance I’ve made. But when I did, I exhaled the cold night’s air, and stopped in my tracks. The lamp post stood tall, its orange light scattered on the pavement. He was gone. He already left. It was already late. I remained frozen in the middle of the street because nobody was there anyway, not anymore.