It's been, what, 5 years?

The 1st year, I hid in my room
with depression devouring me

The 2nd year, I broke so many phones
trying to reach you, but you never picked up

The 3rd year, I started pretending you never left
I beat up anyone who tried to convince me otherwise

The 4th year, and I thought learning you would bring you back
Midnights had me studying Chinese, and I didn't care if I got heartburn
eating the spicy tofu you liked so much when you were here

The 5th year, I kind of realised you weren't coming back

But then, somewhere around autumn, you called and with that
horribly familiar accented Korean, you asked to meet.
I should have said no, shouted in your ear, swore at you with all the curses I used to teach you, slammed the phone on you.
I should have done all of those things,
but I didn't.

"So how's it been all these years?"
This is going all wrong, I shouldn't look so excited
I shouldn't be smiling like I'm looking at my favourite person in the world
And you make it sound so simple. "I'm great, thanks."
I guess you'll never know about the hunger strikes,
or the crying,
or the self-harm.

Now everything's falling into place.
We talk and laugh over soju,
and we watch variety shows with me in them,
and dramas and movies with you in them,
and it's like you never left.
Only I can't quite erase the 5 years,
but it seems as if you already have.
It's okay, I don't mind.
(actually, *******)
I love you.