I remember the time that we first kissed…

… under the starless city skies of New York; drank two bottles of Sapporo and probably smoked one or too many packs of Marlboro. It was a year ago but your umbrageous face behind the smoke was hovering in the spaces of my memories too vividly. We ended up in an empty parking lot talking about trivial things that was currently happening to our lives that time. The breeze was freezing but our lonely hearts kept us warm; our burning cigarette sticks kept us fuzzy. But as the smoke dissipate, you slowly evaporated in my life, too. I wonder where you went.

Five hundred sixty days later, I am still here; longing to see your vague silhouette again; longing to see you again. I heard you moved out of your murky apartment. I also heard you went to another country. All honesty, I don’t have any idea where you in the world you are right now. 
You were the moon, I am the sun. The moment I rise up, you disappear. We will never, ever, meet again.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve been mistaken you for someone else…”

‘Lo and behold the time that I first met you. You were the vast moonless sky, thirsty for some moonlight. I met you at the corner of the pavement between forgotten streets where strangers meet and lovers leave. You were blowing gray smoke wearing charcoal band shirt and jeans. You were striking, quite familiar actually. In the deepest parts of my amygdala, a feeling of nostalgia kept on running inside my skull; Like a previous love that was never mine. When we were slowly approaching each other, our eyes met; Our souls melted together. My blabbermouth accidentally uttered: “I’m sorry. Have we met before?” Hopeful that I could get a positive response. 

“I’m sorry but I don’t remember  you.” You quickly responded.

“Oh.” I gulped. ” I’m sorry. I must’ve mistaken you for someone else.”

That encounter created a spark and started a fire between two lost souls seeking for comfort in the middle of nowhere. Soon, the fire started spreading everywhere, warming my cold, steel heart. That fire was uncontrollable, burning anything at stake. Although it was good at the start, it was slowly turning into a fiery chasm, devouring me and my sane being. It was not long until the fire was extinguished; Ending everything in fragile ashes. 

One year later, I saw you again at the same pavement; In the same month; during the same time. I could no longer call you my love. Maybe I was right at first- you will be forever the love that was, is, and never will be mine. 

Our eyes met but our soul were repelling from each other. Your gray smoke escaped from your mouth, along with your sighs. I smiled sheepishly. Your quick response was “Hey.” Your eyes were blank, not the eyes that I knew before. 

“You look familiar, have I met you before?” I said wrinkling my forehead. That was intentionally said with a little bit of sarcasm. 

With a soft smirk, I added. “I’m sorry. I must’ve been mistaken you for someone else.”

Through the haziness of the room…

… saturated with lavender scented smoke suspended through the thin air, I looked into your eyes and wondered why everyday I wake up beside you everything is slowly turning into a 1960’s movie.
Monochrome.
Black and white.
Your presence leaves a tar and cotton colored residue in between the spaces of my freshly washed comforter each time you leave my bed. I peacefully followed your trails with my eyes as you head to the bathroom carrying your two month old toothbrush you bought from a random convenient store on your way home. The sound of the water splashing against the tiled walls made my heart and soul sulk, reminding me about the fact that you’re leaving me again.
Coming back after a week.
No assurance that you will.
My body summons the past-night-shenanigans tremors, forbidding me to move an inch from the bed that I am laying in. You went out of the bathroom like a soaked fluffy toy bearing a sly face that you always do whenever you leave. You gracefully tiptoe like the ballet man that you are across the room to open the closet and change into your go-to clothes.
Spray your Jo Malone Orange Blossom perfume.
Sit upon the mini sofa.
Wait for your bleached blonde hair to dry.
“Please don’t leave. Can you stay for a couple more days?”
“Darling, I can’t. I will come back to you, I promise.” You look down and pat a clean towel against your feet.
I understand, I completely do. My heart crumples as you look at me with scrunched nose, trying to hold back the tears you have been depositing in the back of your sclera for a long, long time.
Wanting to stay.
Wanting to stop the ticking of my old desktop clock.
After minutes, alas. You stood up, slowly shoved the blue tinted curtain aside to open my windows. You always told me to open them every morning to let my room breath. Yes, you better do because your scent circulates around the room and I can’t bare it. It feels like I will still breath your being even though your physical self is not around anymore. You meticulously check your bag one last time, pretending to arrange your already neat bag just to buy another minute.
“I guess I’ll go. I’m late for my flight.”
“Yeah.”
You begin approaching me to kiss my forehead, my cheek, my lips. You kiss me one last time as the taxi cab that was supposed to get you to the airport honk repeatedly. Frustratingly, you let go of a subtle “tch” between your breaths.
“Please wait for me. I will come back.”
“Yeah…”

Year 1997: Tokyo, Japan

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