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.
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 miss you.
I long for you.
*my entry to Magpie Tales