We were walking down the street, now in the depth of winter, covered in snow. You were almost too confident, brushing your shoes on the thick coat of snow as my sight diverged. Anxiety trailed along a thin streak of tear that rolled down my face, and then I lowered my head just to hide it away from you. Our footsteps seemed surreal. Have we walked so far just to part? Why am I always the one who stands and wave? Why does everyone turn away from me? P.S. This was written such a long time ago I forgot what triggered me. I previously thought departing would be easy, when I had nothing to hold on to, and I wanted so badly to leave. Don't get me wrong, I still want it desperately, but would my departure make an impact? Would things still remain the same when I return? C'est la vie. I say, you'll never know if you never try.
You'll never be lovelier than you are now.