The uncalled rift started when the only faces we could see in our eyes were the last memories we remembered we had fallen for and nothing else. The winter evening cuddled our tears as my fingers slithered from yours. Two more hours and the dawn would break—we had to leave, but I would do it first.
Quietly, I swam away from your once familiar bed and flew into the unholy grounds of farewells. If the sun rose upon your restless breaths, please know that I lived between the gentle heat of its rays, to tell you I still stayed.
Two years passed before I heard about you settling down for good. In a dark December midnight, I parked across your house. Your open window flashed flickering lights, maybe from your television’s. All of a sudden, my veins jolted and I jerked from my seat.
At nights like this, I could not help, but wonder what would have happened if we did not let those empty years slipped.
WORD COUNT: 168
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.