I miss your voice tonight,
Sound travels in vacuum and I remember the wavelength of your laughs and how it pauses at certain parts. You know how it it feels to remember it in super details? It's like I'm deep in space alone, darling: soundless, no lights, weightless. It's almost like giving in to the black holes. The way your happiness similar to explosion of supernovae when you throw your head back and I lose three breath each time as the air is knocked out of my tired lungs. I recall how your always pronounce my name with your eyebrows twitching like I am a fucking mistake. "Fatehah, ..." it would roll off your tongue so softly and into my system, echoing homeomorphically off the walls of dark grottos behind my face. As much as I love the way you pronounce my name, I prefer the existence of your name, etched all over the papers I touch. You are beautiful. I remember all the parts of you that are beautiful. Every inch of you.
Have you ever seen the Pale Blue Dot photograph? Carl Sagan pretty much said it all when he slapped us in the face with the realization of how insignificant we are. Hear me out, please stay. I could be loving you more than I do this fickle universe but it will never amount to much, darling. I am just a micro dot on a dot of the Pale Blue Dot. I can't trace back to the day I fell hard for you or explain the Bing Bang theory or name you our nearby galaxies but the spaces of my mind is a pandora box of past, present, future that would have only you in it in pieces to stitch it into an exponential canvas. That sounded complicated. It would just mean my head will always be filled with the thoughts of you and it had become so often these days that you're just like the air that is everywhere I don't realize when you are on my mind again anymore. I love you, you ('re my other) significant being.
Foremost, you are my favourite being in this lonely universe and I will continue to romanticize you as long as I still love you. You are the little universe that keeps my galaxies together. I am sorry that I am tired of promising forever when even the Sun is expected to collapse one day. Time and spaces, words and metaphors, theory and proses, I believe in an ending for each of everything existing. But for tonight, and also for the oncoming transitional days, you are my sun, my only sunshine, you make me happy when the skies are grey. And I, I'd take every mistakes, flaws that are latched onto each of your cells and proudly call it mine for the time being if you would let me.
