He was a lesson on losing a love that isn't yours. My coherent words are always escaping me and the inappropriate pauses practices was an issue. My thoughts leave me alone on sunny days, my thoughts clings to me to stay alive on rainy days. When I left, this city probably cried but if he knew how much it pains me to leave, he would never leave. That was perhaps why I had so many thoughts running that day back in June.
What you are to me, is the burning of timberwoods. The smouldering of old chairs in a lone forest-home deep in cold woods. If no one sees it happening, does it happen? No one sees it burning but the last bit of the hardwood floors are ashes now. You get to learn how love is a nurtured seed growing of a small tree and patient was within the slow burn. There's a fire in the forest. Slow and greedy. Like love. Like what I am feeling for you. Silent and gentle and evil.
Could we have loved each other better if we stayed in this home-country and see each other's faces for more years to come? I'd love to believe in another five years, we would come home to this place and one of us would be utter thankfulness for the airport walls to hear. Listen to the footsteps and maybe at that moment realize just how deep this love is. Realize that no stormy seas can break this.
Because this. This is an undefined loss, the price for growth. This was at stake.
