I remember the most insignificant details about you.
What you liked to eat, what your favorite chocolate was.
How you always wrote me letters and those pieces of worn papers with slightly messy handwriting expressed more of yourself than words ever could.
I remember the color of your room but I don’t know how many nights you’ve laid awake looking at those lilac walls.
I remember being engulfed in your hugs.
The way your embraces were warmer than the fleeting sunrays of summer,
But just as cozy as the sweet touch of melting popsicles on burning skin.
Holding you was like stumbling across a favorite blanket in the attic on a fine winter morning.
And sickly tender every time!
There’s something so unfair about it, and I wish I could blame fate for it.
But weren’t we the ones who truly held the key to our destiny?
Yet we decided to let go of that key and locked ourselves in.
I wish I knocked on your door.
I wish you knocked on mine.
If you did, you’d see that the door was always open.
It’s been years, but I’ve never once closed my heart for you.
For we were to always fall back into each other’s orbits.
For you were never too far away.
Just close enough, to clash,
When the cosmos desires,
Like a stellar collision.
Isn’t that how the universe plays with us?
I hope I always see you in yellow petals, and you see me in wildflowers.
We are in each other’s lives,
Maybe from a distance,
But inevitably there.
Irrespective of everything,
Like the Sun is there for the Moon.
And even though we are just tiny stars with our feeble starlights in this big constellation Surrounded by chaos and crashes and nebulas and supernovas,
I hope you keep looking at my star with the same warmth in your eyes.