Collision season of ours, it should have felt like strings in planetarium.
I still hold hidden affection in my chest,
Completely enough to fill a stadium.
Filled with patterns of anyone I ever loved, to be a mosaic museum.

Before we branched into different junctions,
If only we had collected more memories, oh the fear of oblivion.
We should've danced just like Mia & Sebastian.
It should have felt like planetarium,
Magical, cinematic, worthy of a scene, 3, 2, 1 - action.

Once, they were happy,
She smiled and laughed,
When he asked and flushed,
They would walk together,
Their hands, intertwined,
Like folds in origami,
Strong but fragile.

Then, it begins to freeze,
their hands quietly pulled away,
like flowers withering,
no more warmth,
no more laughs,
no more shades of blue, purple or yellow,
no more "us".

Now, I would rewind those times,
the good times.
Nothing more than just memories,
Now stuck in the past,
creased into the folds of time
forever, like what it was meant to be,
but now?

Maybe, it was my fault.
Maybe, it was yours.
Maybe, it was us.
There were still,
So many questions to be asked.
So many years we could have had.
Maybe it was that.

I always loved you.

Come,
and find me
underneath the willow tree.

For you, I have waited an eternity.

The stillness of the river,
sings for you still.
it ripples,
a bittersweet hum of your name.

Don’t you remember?

How we lay amidst tulips and lilies,
the amber of your eyes melting into green
olive skin, caressing rosy cheeks.

An autumn leaf,
forever stuck in my spring.

Don’t you remember?

How we hid in the tall grass,
surrounded by multicolored hues,
of red, white, and blue.

The grass hugged us close,
the air carried your coy whispers,
you confessed me your love,
but you left come November.

It was a hot midday of June,
when we shared our first kiss.
The sunlight scorched our skin,
as our lips met in sweet sin.

Don’t you remember?

The day you said goodbye,
I was by the edge of the creek,
and you on the other side.

The river carried away my tears,
as I watched your eyes barely blink.

You spoke of your pain,
of the tall grass that felt like vines,
trapping you to the soil of where we used to lay.

You told me of your disdain,
of the flowers I grew,
of how all you could see,
was your blood on their nails.

You told me all of this,
without even saying my name.

Do you remember it still?

My name that is.
Or did it die on your lips,
when you whispered goodbye?