That Wednesday evening when sweeping through my bag for your hairband, you found my notebook, the one you were unknown about.
You inquired, questioned and i answered, honestly.
I told you how some thoughts, few quotes, our fights and how it felt everytime we kissed; everything and nothing was written, described and Imagined.
You ordered you wanted to read it and have I ever said no ?
But I guess the notebook interminably wanted to hear the story of our last goodbye; sudden, crooked, not pictured.
You said someday you will meet again, to read what you left, to feel all that one more time before you go.
Go to a place where my voice was inaudible, irrelevant, silent.
I tried destroying it many times, but the hope of you, meeting someday, keeps it breathing.
I wish to see that face of yours someday,
i hope we meet,