it was raining that night
when we sat down at the
patio surrounding
the well - lit
building that I used to
love and hate

we were there
and it's almost
impossible
to hear you breathe
as the raindrops fall audibly
on the roof.

"what am I to you?"

was the thing I had never
imagined asking

and I could almost feel
the churning
in the pit of  my stomach
and the upwelling
feeling of regret

if I would ever, ever
like your response

and there, I realized
in a chain of thought that

asking you of what
I perceived me to be

is a
dead-end risk
and the moment
I doubted
'what we are'
I knew
that
things are never going
to be the same
anymore

I tried to focus on the rain
waiting for your answer
and you muttered
'I don't know'

we drown, together
in the silence
and I can hear us
detaching.

“I dont know”
was my response
when you asked me if
I still love you

the world stopped
for the both of us
as I wondered on the thought
of me, being selfish
or being true
and yours upon the
realization that
maybe, just maybe
my love for you
is fleeting

neither of us was speaking
and the silence echoed
through the depths of my head
and you uttered
‘oh’

that moment, I knew
that you gave up
on me, and my inner
indecisiveness

I crumbled upon
the guilt of telling you
those words, so instead
I let my tongue do
the talking and said
'maybe'

cause it was never hard to say

but it is always hard to face

the reality of being responsible
to someone

as if I have to breathe
through somebody’s pair of lungs
and scratch the loneliness
with someone else’s fingers

we parted
I changed numbers

cause I had to stay afloat
on the clouds of solitude
free from attachments.