I Wish I Had Your Goodbye

The hallway goes on and on and on,
Empty heart beating.
The silence gets broken by wails alone,
Not laughters we’re hearing.
Couldn’t you have said, goodbye my love,
Instead of desserting me?
I could have used ample time to prepare,
That you’re never going to be there anymore.
That I would never get to wake up with your voice calling to me,
Nor would I ever feel your fingers tracing my skin.
And I would never see your smile shine brighter than the rays of sun,
But instead my days would be as bleak as a storm-surged county,
Without you being there beside me.

Because She Was Gone

He was walking aimlessly; I walk an empty street, on the boulevard of broken dreams goes his background music inside his head. It was on replay, that particular sentence to be exact, since he found it fitting for his situation. He was traversing the road where it all began and although it wasn’t empty like the song, he sure did feel like one as the memories go by and the dreams slowly shatter to pieces. I was supposed to make it all work out this time, he thought with regretful reminiscence of what passed as the best connection he ever felt with another human. The wind blew, a scent of Jovān White Musk wifting pass his nostrils and he came to a halt. He knew that smell well- the scent he has been waking up to for three years of his life, the one that has always made him smile and reach across the bed towards its owner and yet, he couldn’t quite look up and search for the person wearing that scent now. Someone cleared her throat and his knees trembled; he knew that throat-clearing like his own, catching his attention whenever he drifts off to where his mind automatically shuts down to and dumbly focuses on a certain part of her- her lashes long enough to cause envy to all women, her lips plump and red as cherries, her nose that challenged the right-angled ruler; she was a goddess sent to give him absolution and yet, he lost her. And now here she was, clearing her throat, wanting his attention when he was afraid it was all just a dream.
“How are you?” She asked, and he heard the uncertainty behind her voice, as if she was not quite sure what she was doing. How could she have graced him her presence once more when he doesn’t deserve it?
“Um,” she paused, unsure, waiting. “Er, it’ll be Amma’s birthday on the 20th and you know how much she adores you…” she trailed off, and that action was painful enough, like she was even unsure if her Amma really did adore him, that he raised his head and looked her in the eyes. She was looking at him with uncertainty clear on her eyes, possibly worry, or doubt, or anxiety mixing up the hues of her bright greenish-blue iris. She looked like she wanted to run away from him as fast as she can, but also she looked like she wanted to reach out and ask him what was wrong. And that would be the stupidest question she would’ve asked because right now, everything was wrong.
“Are you-” pause. “Will you come to Amma’s birthday? Please? For Amma?”
And he looked at her with increasing intensity, trying to imprint her face in his mind, as unworthy as he is to be graced her presence. He didn’t answer her question; he couldn’t waste a single nanosecond when he knew this might possibly be the last time he has to look at her. Even when she grew uneasy to his scrutiny, he didn’t waver. He looked at her as she waited for an answer, and looked at her when he fidgeted on her toes, uneasy, and looked at her more when she smiled awkwardly for the last time, and looked at her last when she turned and retreated, her silhouette vanishing, mingling with the bodies busily roaming the streets. That’s when his voice broke through, a whisper-sob that escaped his unworthy lips and he murmured I’m sorry.


I told him it was alright to not love me so much as before. I told him even if it ended already, when the time comes that he loves me again, I’d always be there  waiting for him. I told him all of these with bated breath, with my eyes focused upwards in a futile attempt not to cry. But then I heard him sob and the dam broke, and we cried to ourselves even when we were together.

How could we fall out of love with someone we have loved our whole life? How could it still hurt so much even without love tethering us together?

I stood up and turned my back to him, wishing he would stand with me, or hold my hand, or tell me to stop or even just gasp the slightest when he realizes that this is finally over. That we are finally over. But I walked a step, and moved with the slowest motion, but he never quite caught up with me… That he never really followed me at all in an attempt to save what was already lost.