When everything is over, I’ll go back home. Back to where I came from.
Till then,
I will dance around in red shoes and from the corner of my eyes, watch you trying not to smile. I will pretend I don’t want my strawberry milkshake and let you have it. I will send you yellow roses and watch your eyes light up like the fireworks at night. I will kiss all your hurt away.
I will savour the warmth of your hugs.
I will memorise your body; every contour, every secret.
For in the end, all I will have are these memories, like flowers pressed in the pages of old notebooks.
So what does it matter now if we are not meant to be forever.