She Knows

Trust me, she knows when something has changed.

From the way your eyes don't twinkle anymore when you look at her―she sees the blizzard that hides behind those irises, that it is not her reflection that's inside of those orbs but someone else's. Your hands will feel alien against her skin, the warmth and comfort gone. She will not recognize your touch because this is not the way you once held her. It's as if she's a withered flower that you slowly let go with silent farewells as the wind carried her away.

She'll taste bitterness in your kisses, the once sweet taste soured until it became an over

ripped fruit―a decaying love. The passion and fire that lighted up the universe are fading like a star at the end of its life. Bit by bit it loses its fuel to spark. And she'll notice the shallowness of your words for they are meant for another's ears now. Every 'I love you' is a recorded tape and it's as if you're just programmed to say it just to keep her heart from crumbling. Those happy conversations are became an unknown part of the past when you started to talk less as every second pass by in silence.

She'll know that your smile is already not because of her, that your mind wanders somewhere when you're with her, and that your heart had changed its rhythm. And at night, as

she reminisces your memories, reread those old conversations, and think about you―she wonders why and cries herself to sleep.

Tomorrow, she'll smile at you again and pretend everything is okay.