The Guy With The Scarf

Here I am staring at the moving clouds through this airplane’s window, moving further away from you, leaving you alone, as lonely as my soul now.

You are as free as your green boots could step, I’m a flightless bird. Try living in a conservative culture with a pressure as a man, which you call it privilege while I perceived as a curse.

I remember you kissed my lips while we were arguing about that. You said our time was too short to be used for arguing.

Arguing the things which used to be very important for us. But not anymore since our future is not ours anymore. Now it’s your future. And my future. In two different sentences.

Your face appears vividly in my mind, every single seconds that I’m alive.

Your voice calling my name keeps repeating itself, convincing that I’m crazy.

I swear I would kill just to kiss you right now.

The memories of undressing you, kissing your neck and touch your skin are killing me slowly.

I love you so much I could kill to have you back. I love you that way. You told me it’s wrong. But if it was wrong, then it was wrong all along.

I know you were lying. It’s just something you had to do. I hate that.

You were the best thing that ever happened to me. My life after this is just a social responsibility for my culture and my family. My life was with you, your cheeky smile, your snorty laugh, and your memorable green boots. And my life ended yesterday, at the Orchard Road, by a goodbye kiss and a tear.

I am not a person anymore. I am dead. I am left nothing, but this scent of you on my scarf.

May, Above the Clouds, On the Airplane, January 27th 2012.

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