Sunday, June 26


we met swiftly one quaint evening. you was wearing a black shirt and blue jeans, standing among the crowds with puffy smokes coming from your mouth and nose. despite the shadows, noises and heat, you caught my eyes instantly. i could feel the familiarity lingering in the air between us.

there you sat. there i sat across you as your fingers walked through your black hair. the subtle smile you had when you saw me, the soft-whisper voice that comes out in the small moments of the nights when we lay looking up to the stars, the ramblings about dreams. everything about you is magical. i don't know if you ever notice me sitting half an hour across looking at you, i just couldn't take my eyes off you. weird but i could picture living a life with you. then you stood up, catching your plane home.

there i realized life is a joke. when you meet your love, too bad he's always on the other side. sitting on the other side of the terminal, staying on the other side of the world, working on the other side of the country. untouchable. unreachable. barely breathing the same air.