Let me write you

I'll write our story not while listening to the lonely lullabies of breeze in a silent night cold enough to make me miss your embrace. Not while the FM radio serenades the stars with broken love songs only played at midnight, the same music that played on the background during our late-night talks.

Instead, I'll start pouring out words like hot water in a cup of coffee. In the mornings when dreams are not forgotten and the warmth of first rays of the sun seeps through curtains with a light kiss on my skin. I'll remember you, between consciousness and half-sleeping, when everything is fairytale-like and ethereal.

I refuse to reminisce about our stolen moments while it's raining, your smell still lingers on jackets I borrowed but never had the chance to return. Your voice still reverberates through the walls, the sheets and pillows we once shared. Not while the frustration of the skies is raging and its tiny droplets drown the sound of my heartbeats.

I'll dance under the downpour like a priestess offering pagan prayers for the spring to come. Let life greet the world once again and let me look back to happiness, to you. Then I'll smile―I won't let this curve of rainbow fade even if the storm left me homeless. I won't let the one reason you fell in love for me be gone,  though all it gave me is the agony of thinking about you over and over.

I'll smile and love you still.

Even if you're gone and all I have is the empty sheets of my heart and the sad melody of missing you after you left.