Another sun sets. The dusty city enshrouds me like a mother to her child after a long day. She tries to put me sleep, only failingly so. The steam rising from the Styrofoam cup dances with the dry wind, happy to have met her, just like I met you. And like the vapors losing their identity, their self into that wind, I lost myself in you the moment I laid my eyes on you.
The way you smiled before you said Hi, before you said how much you missed me, before the promises, the fears, before that kiss, the one after and the one I last saw when we met for the last time, come gushing back at me. I am consumed by the sunset only to be reminded of your benign face and that stubborn lock of hair.
The maddening crowd of this new city is warm, Sweetheart. But they fail, you know where? They fail miserably to give me the warmth your hug gave me. When I held you tight, when I buried my face deep in your shoulders, the warmth you gave me brought me home, something I never had. I miss that.
The smiles, the laughter, your thoughts, your hopes and your aspirations from life and the way you were so determined with your beliefs made me happy. Your insecurities and subdued-possessiveness and your confidence in me, the trust you failing had in me. I miss that.
But we have said our good-byes, there is not a moment I mourn. Another day draws to an end and I don't have my own. The twilight seems beautiful, but not as beautiful if you were here with me, savoring this cup of tea. But you don't like tea, or coffee, silly me! I miss that.
Not a single moment goes by without me thinking about trying to persuade you to come back, but then we have said our good-byes. It's hard to believe it's been so long and yet you are here with me, in my thoughts, running your beautiful, long fingers through my hair. Your perfect face, your perfect eyes, lips, smile, nose. I miss that.
I miss the mornings when I woke up with a smile on my face, knowing that there was this one person who was there for me. I miss the kiss, the hug, your voice over the phone, your questions and the hidden answers in them. But we have bid our good-byes, with you looking ahead while I am standing here with nothing else but my stillborn hope.
It's dark now and the tea's gone cold. Far away, the city runs frantically while up here on the roof, I see a progressively darkening sky.
Do you still look up in the sky when you think of me? Do you?