Is it
just me?
Or was
it really you that I saw?
I saw your face in the crowd.
I know
that face that stood out from a sea of people at the train station. Then, it
dawned on me.
The
roads I tread everyday aren’t the same as yours.
But I
followed you until I’m about a couple of feet near you; so I could catch a
glimpse of your face.
He
wasn’t you.
Was
that your perfume?
The
one that smells of tea leaves?
I can smell you from somewhere.
There
was a tingling sensation on my nostrils because of a familiar fragrance that
wafted in the air.
I
breathed in.
I
followed where the fragrance was coming from, and it led me to someone else.
Not you.
Was
that your voice?
I thought I heard you calling my name.
I
searched for you.
You
weren’t around; it wasn’t you.
I
called you instead.
“Hello?”
I
smiled.
That
is why I try to call, every now and then, to check out on you.
Your
laughter, your inquisitive pitch, your engaging tone; they’re enough to get me
through the day.
Am I
dreaming?
There's
a mirage of you in the heat of summer's day
The
sun is bright, scorching; my throat is parched.
I
guess I'm half awake.
There
were times that at night, after saying our good nights, I’d leave a space on my
bed for you.
I wish you were beside me.
I’d
put a pillow there, in your absence.
I hunger for your touch.
I’d
close my eyes as my hands mimic yours; how you slowly caress parts of me.
My
fingers would trace parts of me where you planted your kisses.
I yearn for the feel of your body against
mine.
So you
asked, “do you ever really miss me?”
I do.
I miss
you.
I long
for you.
