It's not that I don't miss you. To the contrary.
From the hand-me-down Canon 300D we've taken thousands of photos with, to the mini wooden statues we received as omiyage (souvenir) in Hokkaido, to the silk shawl from the Landmine museum in Cambodia, to the propaganda art prints we got in Ho Chi Minh city, to the sunnies we bought in that dingy Sungei Wang mall in KL, to the stack of books we handpicked in India, to the sleek external hard disk you fixed up for me in Singapore, to the bumble bee on the header of my blog from our favourite Bollywood film - you're everything and everywhere I see.
There is part of me that wants an answer
A part of me that doesn't wanna know
A part of you that I am in love with
And the part that I'm willing to let go
There is a delicate unravelling
Now and then I find pieces on the floor
Tiny little bits that tell me
Well, maybe I shouldn't take this
Or love you anymore
But the right thing to do is to move on and keep looking forward, even though every iota of my heart tells me to hold on and believe in us.
Labels: books, confession, life, love, memories
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