The Colour of Sadness

i've had enough of dreams

I want to forget.

But like all things you want to forget, there's always a catch.

You can't forget.

Because deep inside, there's a part of you that holds on until the skin on her fingertips are raw and bloody, until her nails are chipped and dirty.

Falling is easy, but it's the letting go that's difficult.

Just like how I can't wash you away - you stay there, teetering on the edge of my every move, refusing to go away. Even though I would like to bleach my memories, even though I wish I had the courage to push you over that edge.

It's not easy at all.

Because if you fell into oblivion, it meant that I would have to follow, and do you know what that means?

It means killing the idea of us.

Killing all our what-if's, our wishes, and all those moments I thought about too much.

It's killing us.

But then again, it was only ever me and you, never us together.

So what is this I'm so desperately clinging on to?

I guess, I just don't want to lose sight of your ghost, of what's left of your faint presence in my mundane life.

Of your shadow round the corner, of your voice hidden in the roaring chatter.

Of what's left of the dream I once had.

I can't forget, and I'm making up details in my memories, daydreaming moments that never happened - because I won't admit.

That this dream has already ended, and I don't want to forget it.