Under starry night.
Dawn keeps coming back, no word comes out my mouth. My presence seems to lack, I wonder if we still are chum. Nights keep passing, yet I think you smile better now. "Aren't we that friends?"- mind asks, "happier he is with another one", response. I can't utter to speak, When will we once again meet? I long for your care, "I'm missing you" is un-rare. Passing halfway through the year seems like gliding down a cornice, not so smooth yet fast. Talking and checking up with my friends became a rare sight to see - not only on my punto de vista but also on theirs. Recently, I keep on composing messages that end up staying on my memo for days to weeks. Why is it so hard to simply check upon them? They are my friends for my sake. I feel like not talking to them while knowing they are talking to others is like a rubber band. I feel like the more we part, the more we will get hurt to the point that we might break. Never can I blame any o