It is sort of funny and scary at the same time.
How you are feeling the same things, if not very similar.
There’s no way I can safely, beyond any doubt claim that you love her more than I do or i more than you.
You feel the pain, the yearning, the anguish.
I feel the pain, the yearning, the anguish.
You are staying, not letting go.
I am holding on, staying.
We both use these words “I love you.”
In bed, in the restaurant, the ally way, the walk home, lost in some place we don’t know.
We both spent time with her among the crowd but feeling it was only the two of us there.
I can’t recall the strangers that pass, the exact way the sun was hitting the grass, but every detail of her face, every movement of her lips, the tone of her voice I remember.
You can’t recall the dinner you had with her last night, but you remember her spilling rice all over herself and you helped her clean it, with laughter and smile to fill the air.
We all felt it.
She was the world to us.
Funny, laughing with tears.