There are days I wish I could forget
what it means to love.
It would make remembering your smile,
the way you would cover your mouth and blush to hide it.
So much less painful.

The sun shines brightly
Yet everything looks gloomy
My heart is heavy

If only I could mail you kisses,
I would overflow the mailbox with letters addressed to your lips.
If only my arms were long enough that I could hold you from miles away.
If only you were close enough that I could feel the vibrations of your voice singing me to a sweet peace.
If only,
If only,
If only.

I could live off nothing but your lips.
Whether it be through words or yours pressed against mine.
The smile it brought me seeing you happy after each one.
Was enough to keep me fed for days.

Someday, the sound of your name will fade into the tragedy of a forgotten harana.

You will be gone, and I will long to erase your memory from my thoughts, wash away the traces of times spent with you.

You will be gone like the kundimans once sung by our grandfathers to our beloved grandmothers.

You will become a scar, like a deep cut on my skin—permanent.

Someday, I will long to forget your name and the sound of it. And I will have a hard time doing so because forgetting someone you once loved is also forgetting the life you shared with them.

Just like our ancestors with their cherished harana, you will become a beautiful memory that happened to me.

You'll never read this.
That's what makes it
so easy to write.