There are times that I want to see you, to talk to you, to tell you how much I miss you. But I know I should not, I must not. Even it tempts the hell out of me, my mind grips this stupid heart not to because I know that you will not like the idea of reading those-- especially from me. For you already want that to be from someone else.
Dion, my love, how fast your heart can change? It has not yet been a month since we had stopped fighting together, yet you already found other reason to stretch your lips and flex your teeth while eyes being illusionaly faded as your pupil can not be clearly seen already; because you are happy. Because you smile. A lot, and I know that you are fully aware on how much I love seeing you smile like that. However, sadly, fuckingly, I am not the reason anymore. Fuck. Bullshit. That hurts. A lot.
