Source: Lukas Godina on Unsplash

Two weeks and still counting. I wake up every day hoping you'll come. And I sleep heartbroken every night. I was flying like a butterfly two weeks ago and now this butterfly is quiet and still. I don't know what to do. There is always this throat breaking out. These eyes pouring down This heart aching out and there is me holding all of them tight. Telling them not to break down. Two weeks ago, You and I, that little soothing sunlight in these cold days and our songs made me feel like those flowers, those red and white, soft like your cheeks, fragrant like your body, and beautiful just like you. But why did all this end? I feel like dying but I also want to be with you. I feel like living but I also don't want to live anymore. It's been two weeks and I am not okay with it. I am trying but I can't. On 27th, when the reports announced that brain stroke, I wouldn't be in a coma if you were here. Come, hold my ugly hand again and console that everything will be okay again. My head pains. It feels like someone throwing stones at me. come on! put your hand in my hair and make me sleep as you watch me. I can't handle this alone. Missing you with this pain adds more to it. I don't even know if you will come. I don't know if you still miss me. I don't know if you would come with those flowers again. I am waiting but I know that you will not be here, but I am waiting. I know my eyes will close forever waiting to get a glance. But I am waiting, stargazing in this moonlight. Walking in these dim street lights. Crying under the quilt every night and sleeping, praying to sleep again the next night, to see you the next morning if I open my eyes. I can't handle what has happened to me. I just want to be with you in my last time. I don't know if this would be the last word I wrote.

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