I understood how much you valued your freedom. I didn't want to bother you so I stopped checking up on you. I didn't want you to remember me as a nuisance. I just kept to myself. I thought of you a lot. I wanted to share with you the random joys and pains I encounter in my path. But I always restrained myself. Hours turned to days.
At first I was full of hope that I'll find a way to be near you again. To feel your warmth and forget all of life's woes and rest in your arms.
But weeks turned to months. And I started to grew accustomed to your absence. I started to forget your scent. Your touch felt like a dream that never happened. Our time together just felt like a story I once read in a book. It felt like a fantasy that never got a sequel.
There comes a point when you start to forget what you're waiting for. You randomly open a new book. Slowly get to know new characters. Get engrossed in a new story; eager to know what happens next. You discover a new world...and start hoping that this one gets a good ending.
