You could go,

needless of alarms or surprises.

You could bid godspeed

and i wouldn’t even wave you back.

I’ve always hated goodbyes,

still, I wouldn’t even ask for you to stay.


Yet even after I’ve had tried a million times

to cleanse your giggles off my memories,

your curls that strayed into your cheeks

will keep on gently scratching me, forever.

Inside melancholy tunes that watered your eyes,

over the cirrus clouds that we chased

from the hilltops we (never) climbed together,

your images will make patterns

in the constellations I see in the night sky.

You’ll be floating

inside this bubble in my head.


You’ll be roaming around the air

that carries the smell of my evenings’ coffee.

Dark, and bittersweet.

I love it that way. And also,

I spill too much. Coffee. Tears. Dreams.

I love it that way,

for these lovely spills don’t leave stains.





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