After What Felt Like A Million Years

I remember our first meeting, but do not recall the farewell.

It was not the day we stopped talking because we were still there for each other since then, although without words. It was not the day we stopped looking into each other’s eyes, because there were maybe no glares but our hearts remind friends. I knew that somewhere out there someone fully understands me; my fear, my story, my hope and my disappointment—as perfect as I understand his. I knew that no matter what, I’m not alone—not because he’s near, but because he exists. Days and nights went by and I was fine. We’re under the same sky, that’s what matters.

I thought you were still there.

But one day we spoke, after what felt like a million years. And the conversation went well until you said that you fear no more. You said you’ve found the answer and you now understand. You said that you’re happy and satisfied. And you fear no more. Your eyes were bright and your smile wide. You, that moment I realized, were not you anymore.

For if it was you, you’d know that there’s no happiness without fear. You’d know that satisfaction is just a myth, a dream that will never come true.  You’d know that, you’d accept that, because.


We’re under the same sky.

That’s what matters.

I remember our first meeting, but do not recall the farewell. I remember we stopped talking and gazing. But there was never a proper goodbye. The next thing I know is that you’ve gone under different sky.  


I wonder if it’s just as grey as mine.