For anytime you crave a cigarette, you’d think of him.


Anytime you stay up too late into the night with no light on, except for the screen light in your laptop that would burns your eyes a little too much, you’d think of him.


Anytime you find yourself walking on a similar street that reminds you of the path you used to take, you’d think of him.


Anytime you catch yourself going through the calendar and stop a few second too long at a certain day of a certain month, you’d think of him.


Anytime you hear a sad love song, or watch a romantic movie, or see other couples hand in hand, you’d think of him.


He who told you that same thing in a day of many years ago.


When the time passes, if you think of me, just say my name.


And you did. But that never changes anything. It didn’t change the fact that he let you go. You could pretend like you were alright, you could pretend that there are many other fishes in the ocean, and your life is perfectly fine the way it is going to be. But on the back of your mind, that late evening of early winter, in the dark alley where you would part way with him, the brief goodbye that he said after a long, tight hug, stayed alive. He who has been holding your hands steadily, has finally let go, as the look on his face became this sorrow of a sentence that can never be finished. You would look down at your hands – white as sheets, burnedly cold because of