I L—- You

I can still vividly recall how that night went.

We were lying on your couch watching bad television.

You were answering client emails on your laptop and I was staring at you. I was trying to get a clear map of your face– every pore, every spot, ever crevice, I was trying to take all of them in.

Maybe it was because I knew then that the end is near. I can smell the tears and the alcohol and the cigarettes that will rule me over.

I can feel the punch, in my belly, as if it was already there. The sound of your voice sounds like the most foreign thing to me as if it was not the very voice that sparks up every single molecule in my body, sending firework after firework in my system every time it calls my name.

And those lips, those lips that kissed my skin, my mouth, they look like someone else’s now.

And as I try to lighten up our scene that we both know is caving in, you started singing.

I can’t remember the song.

I don’t know why I can’t. Maybe it was defense mechanism on my part, or maybe it was because the song was simply not remarkable.

Nonetheless, I can’t remember what it is– except for that line that you sang– rather, you did not sing.

It was a love song.

And as you mouthed the words one by one, you remarkably skipped the word I wanted to hear the most.


And my love, how you stared at me when you replaced the word with silence.

And it was then that I realized that I must




And so i did, just like how you made a gap in the song you were singing.

Now it’s my turn to leave the gap, not between words, or songs, or phrases, but between the two of us.

And unlike you, I wouldn’t look you in the eye as I place this void.

I would simply look away– like you’re not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

Like I never l—- you.



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