Your hands on my back
Each time we cross the road.

Your lips on my cheeks
Whenever you send me.

Your fingers in my hair
That day I got sick.

"Give me a kiss"
You said.
A hand on my breast,
The other on my waist.

But Dad.

You are like a blank page.

One without any past,
Without any dust.

One I get to fill,
With everything I feel.

You are like a blank page.

I am afraid to touch
I am afraid to hold
I am afraid I won’t let go.

You are like a blank page.

I can stain with blots,
Chain you with locks.

I can stab you with pain,
Make you go insane.

You are like a blank page.

I will try my best to ease
I will try my best to kiss
I will try my best so this love won’t cease.

You are my blank page.

I really want to know
if you feel the same.
If you miss me
like how insanely I do.

But I don't want to know
because there might be
nothing to know,
nothing you feel.

I hugged you
for the last time in my dreams
I savour it for the last
two ever lasting seconds.

It was time to let go,
to no longer explicitly love you
but to disguise you,
discreetly as a weak spot.

A weak spot which I gladly
accept and embrace
loathe and love
consume and crave.