What happens
when my version
in real dimension
met your version
in parallel universe,
staring at each other like
it’s a usual scenario,
seeing those cold eyes
flaming my heart on fire,
feeling the blazing sensation
memories outnumbering stars,
yet still overwhelmed by the suffocation
of the aroma
called love?

What happens
when your version
in real dimension
met my version
in parallel universe,
sitting on the same bench,
looking at the same sky,
watching  how the sun and moon keep distance,
spectrum illuminating our souls,
exquisitely walking  away,
monsters screaming in shadows,
vanishing footprints
but still,
synchronous to my heartbeat?

Let me walk away;
back then,
the very first time
we've met.
when sleepless nights of
thinking of you
is not a deliria.
when shutting myself off
from other people
is not my favorite work.

Let me walk away;
these butterflies in my stomach
are not even dying, yet
my heart is slowly crumbling,
for finding my world
in that most little space
in your heart,
for allowing myself that *home
is not just a place
but being with you is.

Let me walk away;
entertaining my favorite visitor, sadness
every night,
staying in our memories,
enduring the agony,
and going back in the middle of time,
we believed our always.
You're no longer
my definition of art,
sobbing in those in-betweens,
unimmortalizing you in those poems
that meant to be eternal.

I will turn back from you —
my dearest home –
to a strange place
that I’d never known;
forgetting our prints
that I’d kept tracing,
tearing those pages that were
not included in
my very own structure,
and building my walls
far from any memory of you.
and for the very last time,
forgive me of my obstinacy,
help me to ease the pain,
just
let. me. walk. away.