Mar 2021
People always leave. People are temporary. Even the person you love the most, will leave you on a Sunday morning. She'll kiss you goodbye, for the last time.
But you wouldn't know that it's the last. You won't.
When you look back, you'll reminisce how she lingered in those fleeting moments, right before she walked away. You'll remember where her hands touched you, where her lips rested on your skin. You'll remember every bit of it.
On terrible nights, you'll find yourself screaming. "How could you?" Of all the people in the world, I trusted that you would stay. Out of all the temporariness, all the flux, all the transience —you were supposed to be the only exception.
You think about calling them, then you'd be reminded that it's not your place anymore. You almost do, but something stops you. You remember these words you've read. It went something like —
People always leave. People are temporary. Even the person you love the most, will leave you on a Sunday morning. She'll kiss you goodbye, for the last time.
But you wouldn't know that it's the last. You won't.
When you look back, you'll reminisce how she lingered in those fleeting moments, right before she walked away. You'll remember where her hands touched you, where her lips rested on your skin. You'll remember every bit of it.
On terrible nights, you'll find yourself screaming. "How could you?" Of all the people in the world, I trusted that you would stay. Out of all the temporariness, all the flux, all the transience —you were supposed to be the only exception.
You think about calling them, then you'd be reminded that it's not your place anymore. You almost do, but something stops you. You remember these words you've read. It went something like —
People always leave. People are temporary. Even the person you love the most, will leave you on a Sunday morning. She'll kiss you goodbye, for the last time.
