It was late at night and the street is empty but I was still out, leaning on the cold wall, waiting for her. Absurd as it is but I could hear the faint ticking of the clock coming from the silence. The night is cold; it was nipping and bitter but the tremendous need to see her was ruling. And so I kept waiting, scanning left and right every now and then, seeking her presence.
Her nearing footsteps have gotten clear and distinct, but I refuse to look at her way and kept my head hung down, patiently waiting until she makes it in front of me.
I crack a smile, one that is longing. I easily recognize the pale pink shoes that stopped before me.
I heard her call out, almost barely. Her voice electrified my senses; it poured gasoline to my blazing yearning. I lingered for hours despite the cold night just to see her and for all that, I could hardly bring my chin up.
I could feel her snug hands cup my face, enough for my eyes to burn and urge the tears. I hastily placed mine on top of hers, succumbing to her touch, savouring her warmth—one that I miss the most.
“Hush, you’re such a cry baby.”
“Please, look at me,” she encouraged; the sadness in her voice resonating.
I took my time. Tears kept coming and I let them; I let myself cry my heart out in front of her, in the empty street, shameless. I held out my hands to touch her face, to gently trace every feature and swore to never forget how her child-like eyes express themselves and how her nose would redden whenever I lean in to give it a kiss; how her lips felt soft and tender against mine.
The longing and emptiness hit me hard. I could feel every piece of me break and only her could place me back.
“I want you back,” I said in between tears, begging.
I was begging for my dear life. That’s how fragile and vulnerable I’ve become. But she smiled, one that is evident of longing too, and a spark of hope nudged me only for it to die down just as quick.
“I can’t. You can’t bring me back.”
I shook my head adamantly. Her rejection felt like a million dagger stabbing me all at once. I was in pain but I struggled to make out my plea as coherent as I could, “Why? Why can’t you come back?”
“You know why… I wish I could but I can’t… it’s just impossible.”
The ticking of the clock became less faint. I have wrapped my arms around her, cradling dearly her whole existence.
“You left me with nothing, not even a good bye.”
It was impossible for me to mask the evident bitterness; she quietly laughed, her hand running on my back as if comforting a child, “No one knows when their time will come, and I was just as clueless.”
“I don’t want to forget you…” I mumbled.
“Start anew, you’ll be stuck in pain if you won’t.”
I heaved a sigh, “I know,”
“But I’d rather have you in this make believe than not have you at all…”
“I have one last favor before I leave.”
I wasn’t oblivious as to what it is nonetheless, I remained still and silent.
“Come to my funeral. Send me off.”
It’s impossible to comprehend—the pain—it was twisted in so many ways. I said nothing but nodded unwillingly.
She gently pull herself out of my arms. The ticking clock became more audible, running fast and loud almost as if prompting us that our time is almost up.
She caressed my face, wiping off the tears that never stopped since the day the heavens decided to bring us apart.
“Take your time, I’ll wait for you,” without words, I pulled her in for the last time, hoping that time would stop ticking and present would freeze us in time.
“You’ll have to kiss me good bye now,”
I felt my knees wobble, losing the strength to support me just like how I’m about to lose her. I held her face and tried to make out my words of parting but I couldn’t until my tear-stained lips made it home to hers.
And just like that, she disappeared, along with what’s left of me.
“I’ll see you again, Love.”
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