Cigarettes and Old Perfume

It rained and you instantly popped up on my mind because you once told me that rain calms you. I should be kind of mad at you for, well, slightly, breaking my heart but you know what, amidst everything, I still do not hate you. You were a great friend but a bad lover.

I remember how we met, and how you agreed that it was serendipity. The way you told me how life fucked you up and how lost you are. The way you play with words and lots of hearts.

You like poetry, cigarettes and her. I knew even before you told me, before shit come fort.

You didnt have to tell me because i knew the way you look at me, the kind of look that you wish it was her instead of me sitting beside you.

You didn’t have to tell me because the movie we watched was her favorite.

You didn’t have to tell me because the way you held me wasn’t as tight.

You didn’t have to tell me because i tasted it, in your mouth, it was grief and bitter longing. Longing that i could never fill. Because I could never be her.

You scribble song lyrics and cute notes on the back of my notebook, but it wasn’t really for me. It hurts, but I’d still read them anyways.

The way you prefer your coffee black because it reminds you of one summer and it rained and for god sake, she brewed some black coffee.

When you cried when I held you bare in my arms, I asked you “why?”

“I’m just sad” you whispered between sobs and “About what?” I asked again, while  caressing your hair. Then you stopped sobbing, and lit a cigar.

And I hate you because you’re goddamn selfish but your selfishness makes me crave you more.

And now that you’re gone, away from me, from her, from all the bullshit that this life gave you; all i hope is that you’re genuinely happy, the kind of happiness you used to pretend and imagine you had. And as for me, i know i’m meant to walk this little hell a little longer. See you soon

/sadstoryineverwantedtowrote

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