Instead, I would open a bottle of beer—that same beer we drank at your friend's house that got us both drunk; that same beer I smelled and tasted when we had our first kiss; that same beer that took us inside the bathroom where we made out and marked each other's skin using our lips. I would open a bottle of beer, pour it in a glass, and this time I swear I wouldn't break it like the last time I tried to act not stupid in front of you.
I miss you but instead of taking the next flight going back to you, I would squeeze in to a one-seater sofa that looks almost the same as the one where you tucked me in. I would lay down, close my eyes and remember your voice telling me to sleep. It is still a wonder to me how we both fit in on that tiny sofa and how ridiculously cute we were that time but who cares anyway? I felt at peace and that moment my world compressed into your arms.
I miss you so much that's why I bought another black Macbeth shirt to add in to my nightclothes, I bravely ate a spicy food, I listened to that farewell song you dedicated to me, I searched the internet for Rami Malek or that kid that looks a lot like you, and I stared at a photo of you that you never knew was taken. God, i miss you, but I will never reread our old conversations even if i badly wanted to. I wanted to trace back your messages to see if you might miss me too. I wanted to check them one by one in case there were things written behind the lines—like a code I must decipher just to have you back. But before I could find the secret hint of hope, I might slip and send you a wave, and that's the last thing I would ever do.
I miss you and instead of letting you know, I would write my thoughts again and let my heart bleed with words only you could give.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I wish it's that easy to tell you.
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Photo by Kevin Bang