When seeing finally meet believing
Looking up, I see less than five stars. The sky feels different tonight.
I stare into space—the blackness eats me whole. It lingers on the delicate areas inside me then pushes me deeper and swallows me right into the dark.
The process weighs me down, and a million of stars explode within me. Gleams of neon colors dance around; specks of light and glitters float everywhere. I want to touch them, to feel them but they are going on in a different direction. And suddenly they’re all gone and I am back in the dark.
I am back within your presence. And you are back to say your goodbye.
I didn’t dare ask anything of how and why. I just know what the answer is. What truth is that lies on your presence. You calmly take your things and scattered clothes. And you take a moment of silence to stare back at me.
In the months when you were gone, I felt a sting that came from my doubting self. I pushed that feeling away because I have no proofs and valid arguments, and no reason why I have to. I reminded myself of our dreams and on why you decided to go.
But that didn’t give me back my peace of mind. So I said to myself that I have to see you first before believing into something lonely, hopeless, and tragic.
Looking at you, I see less than a half of the man I knew before. You feel different tonight.
Or maybe not just tonight.
You put your hand on my shoulder and say your final words.
I am not the man for you.
The words, magically, bring my peace of mind for good.