i still remember the numbers representing us;
your handphone number, your birthday, your anniversaries

i still remember the small things; 
remember falling asleep with ears pressed against cellphones,
remember friday afternoons in libraries waiting for you after ncc;
remember your drink orders from the auntie,
remember the small brackets in time we gave one another, 
after school, before school, the gaps between lessons
we orbited around in a strange gravity no one else but us can possibly understand

I remember how one time, your classmate talked about my grandma
your friends told me you almost beat the guy up;
i couldn't tell then, couldn't tell you were seething in silence

i thought at that point if i could find meaning in our ending,
i could tie up the loose ends of the red strings i severed.
but it has been a couple of years, and every rationale sounds like cheap excuses
i know i don't want to go back to him but you,
you are still the only guy that i can write about 
anyone else feels wrong

i still remember your phone number;
but now they are just a combination of 8 numbers
not a lifeline when i cannot breathe and i need to hear someone else's voice

they say that first love is a first love because
there are other loves after it, other things to fall in love with
but its been five years and every now and then,
i wonder if you are it.