My silence has better words to say.
I’m still addicted to the thoughts of us, the possibilities but reality slaps that it’s a jungle to delve in.
You, who’s high as the star. Whose eyes are like black hole that any woman could be trapped and not recover. You, whose smile will never grow old.
Why would you even waste time for a mediocre lad?
So I scrape every memory and idea of us. It’s waking up every hour from a dream. Though your thoughts were intrusive. And I somehow hate it. I don’t know how long will this torment be.
Maybe as long as I could see your eyes across the desk or as long as I feel frantic in your presence.
Or maybe, I’ll just stick to the idea that only in friendship, I can have you around. If that’s the only way for ‘US’ to stay…somehow that’s enough.