The answer is...
It seems I have known you forever. Not someone like you, but you. On some evenings when Al Pacino co-exists with lonely coffee mugs, I sleep over half-read Barnes’, the Sense of an Ending looms large. Not over me, but over us. And I fumble to figure out the beginning of an end. Has it ever begun? Or is it just me scared of the end? The answer is… It seems I can cry for you forever. Not over you, but for you. On some rainy afternoons when my window sill is wet with love, I sit over torn pages of my diary, memories loom large. Not over my past, but over our future. And I say I believe in living life for present, each moment at a time. Am I too scared of a future without you? Or is it just a skeptical me, thanks to the past? The answer is… It seems I can hold on to you forever. Not hang on, but hold on. On some wintry mornings when I refuse to leave the warmth of my cozy bed; your smiling hug looms large. Not over my body, but in my mind. And I wake up from sleep to h