Serenity was her face—
Yet it felt like wildfire…
Three in the morning and          
its as if                  
she doesn’t even care        
how badly it is
raining.        
Amid the thousand city stars,            
just like she    
can see none of them—
she outshines all of them anyway…                
All she does is stare                                          
and I am just so              
so sure  
she is staring        
so much deeper...                    
as her eyes are covered  
   by her soaking wet hair                  
I so can simply tell.
So intently.
It is like a few hours        
only before daybreak                              
and its still like                                  
  afternoon                                      
counting the many            
restless feet                              
  of passersby                                            
continuously                                                     ­ 
slapping the wet pavement                              
slapping the soaked water                                
slapping my drenched face                              
And the only thing I can think about is thirst.  
Countless weary eyes          
watching recklessly tirelessly glancing shamelessly—
It’s like the only thing missing              
is a silver screen.                        
I can’t even tell teardrop                
from raindrop apart.      
Dripping.
Dropping.
Creeping down      
her crumbling face              
Eyes covered            
by the quickly  
fading                    
green                        
highlights                
   of her hair.                        
She is glowing while              
equally drowning…                                  
I can basically tell                                
how hard                                                  
she’s trying to keep the cold                          
I know how easily she chills          
I can actually see her shiver                
straight through          
her black Penshoppe hoodie I gave her…      
I know because                  
every                  
single                  
time                  
we stand under the rain      
she just can’t help                        
  but hold me.            
And I’d embrace her.                          
And she’d snug by my shoulders.              
It’s a lot cuter the way I remember it.            
Now all she does is stand there.                              
Hands both clenched                    
so **** tight        
they just could              
so easily burst.    
Shaking—                    
With not even a single word.            
Not even a single sound…                            
I shrug simply.                  
Imagining how even
a single utterance        
could ruin                            
this picturesque scene…        
what else can I do but look at her?
Waiting—
Just like the last time—                  
“So—”          
The man in front of her          
can barely even finish        
a word before she shakes her head
wiping the hair off her lips                          
enough to see that she’s smirking.
And for me to tell that she’s plainly hurt.    
Minutes—          
Hundred headlights passing—              
And a thousand more      
spectators passing by…        
She finally raises her chin                
showing her face        
—still so radiant amid the twilight skies—            
and flourishes                                                       ­   
so flawlessly                                              
this inviolable smile.                                      
No cracks.                              
No wobbles.                                
Not even shaken anymore...                
Exactly the same smile                  
I fell for before.      
She knows                  
just as much as I do          
that no words        
can cut it.                  
She knows only one thing can—
One step closer…                                            
He is exasperated                  
or something…      
I just can’t tell.            
But he must be.                  
All he does is stare    
at disbelief          
almost taking a step back.
And all she does is lean forward.            
One arm thrusting,                        
wrapping around his head                  
and the other      
just so confidently
bashfully                      
she hides      
inside the pocket                
of her denim pants.                    
He’s in shock      
I can tell.                  
And even though              
I know      
what that kiss really means          
I can’t simply help                  
but think of how lucky he is.                      
And how much  
I miss                  
to kiss                  
that same kiss…
But all I could really          
wrap my head about                    
is how sorry              
I feel for him.                          
If only I could pull the plug          
and scream ‘cut!’    
“I don’t believe in smiles and kisses.”
She once looked at me            
so solemnly and said.                      
It was our first fight then.          
First almost apology.                            
First kiss.                    
First hotel room.            
First bed…                              
First time waking up together.                  
And I was too rattled                  
to even think of why.                          
Now I get it so clearly.          
And far too late.                    
She was the first one to pull away.                
Her smile so still untarnished.                                
Unmoved.            ­        
And his face so torn:                    
half of confusion                
and the other half like heaven                      
yet only if heaven                  
was about to tear apart…                  
A face I’ve too long
been familiar with.
No goodbye.                
No hugs.          
No handshakes.                
No warnings—    
All she does is walk away.              
So quickly        
so suddenly            
like she did with me        
all those years ago.                          
Only with a much      
much brighter smile        
this time.                
A much more aggressive kiss        
than I remember.    
Yet nothing else changed…    
Even how she shivers                
so subtly                                              
part stopping herself                                
from hugging the man            
in front of her            
and part from                
the showering cold.            
  
And I know                              
I’m far too late              
and gone                              
to do something about it
but I can’t help myself.                  
Reminding myself of how                              
I waited foolishly                
at that same park                      
knowing and not accepting                
somewhere      
at the back of my head              
that she really meant                                    
that kiss                                                        
to be a                                                                ­    
kiss goodnight...                                                     ­   
How I stared terribly                          
at the passing cars      
thinking to myself                
which one would be                          
the one to                  
hit the hit                      
that lulls me                    
to where I could                          
dream of heaven      
forever—                            
All I could think about          
is how easy it is                            
to take that step forward.
And how hard it is to stop her            
—without thinking—                    
I was racing            
faster than                    
her worn out smile              
falling apart          
catching up so fleetingly...              

And all I did was run
straight past her...

Or more accurately:
*She passed right through me

...time again
I miss something.
Is it you?
About you?
A part of
who I once was?
With you.
Because
was I me with you?
Or was I you with you?

I wish I knew.
But I haven't a clue.
I didn't choose.
All I could do
was tell the truth
and I knew I'd lose
waiting in queue
but I couldn't move,
rooted in my shoes
I refused
like a love struck fool
and was used.
But I let you.

Time and...