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The sky is grey outside, but inside,

its the colour of the flannel shirt i bought as a memorabilia of this feelings you left me with

no one knows but i like the pointed bubbly cheeks when you smile, 

at something sweet your cheek will rise and i can clearly see it from behind. 

no one knows but i take a look at the greys sticking out in your hair, the coffee you bought downstairs, 

the navy blue jacket and the weight on your shoulder.

no one knows when i write poetries when you were gone.

i write poetries when im sad

i write poetries when im afraid

i write poetries when im mad

but most importantly i write poetry secretly behind your back

#

hi you

congratulations on finding love in a dating app, at the age of 27, at this age of isolation, pandemic and recession. i simply think that you deserve it, a person as sweet and thoughtful, deserve all the kind of love you think you deserves.

now that you're kind of off limit, its very hard to walk away. you're a quicksand, a friction in the scenario, a dream i intended to never come true. (real dream btw i dreamt of you one night).

but i know a chair is up there and it was never mine.

and maybe you know that too, that is why it was always a river to cross between us. and i respect you for that. dont worry, im writting this so i could get over you.

for someone who intended to stay as far away as i can, there are only certain things i could wish for you:

i hope you are always basked in the sun's warmth, hidden on your mother's long hug back home, safe under your coat from the pouring storm, full from eating delicacies someone decided to pay you for, enamored for the hard work you put into, appreciated by everyone reconizing your ideas and worth, happy from the love you choose as your forever.

writing this from a taxi back home,

a sad beautiful tragic lover