I tell him my thoughts as they come,
He tells me don’t try to control it.
If I can punch him every time he misunderstood my intention,
Or every rhetorical question he’s answered,
It’ll be equal to the times he has interpreted me flawlessly.
And that’s probably why he’s special.
In case you’re all wondering like he did.
That moment when you attempt to move on,
And you find a little ounce of happiness in something that has nothing to do with him..
And a faint voice inside you whispers back his name,
And asks you, “what about him? Did he move on?”
Then you mentally reply to yourself,
Convincing yourself that,
“He’s okay, he moved on, accept what’s happening right now, don’t look back”
But you find yourself with the phone on your ears,
And you’re waiting for someone to pick up…
Who am I calling?
Then you hear his voice.
And although that moment of happiness,
That moment of satisfaction was just about
to write a new chapter,
You’re back to a couple of chapters behind… revisiting those feelings,
But also relieved…
As you hear his stupid voice, that you love so much.
That you still love.
But wish you can just
He can tell,
From the tone
The breaths between each sentence,
The air connecting each word,
The clearing of the throat,
The details of certain situations –
The general descriptions of others.
You’re still in love with him
No I’m not.
Yes, you are, stop being in denial.
No. I’m not.
in love with him.
Yes. I do love him.
But… I’m not in love with him.
So do not deny me the chance of moving on.
I told my father once,
Why have we become distant?
He hugged me and kissed my forehead,
Then he looked at me and smiled.
That simple gesture held more meaning than any words of reassurance.
And dear lover,
No one is allowed to dream of You,
Your beautiful face,
Or even sense your presence
In any goddamn way.
We honor moments by remembering them,
Honors them for the both of us.
Now he’s found a way for me to honor them too.