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.

She wear black but her mind is colourful

You sing your Iris and I’ll sing my Creep
Hum Yellow to my Yellow Lights
So that all the night can see
Such unchained, unchanged, melodies