We went to different places for the long weekend.
I was silently wishing you were with me, spending time on the shore during the sunset or taking an early morning walk on the beach.
But I didn’t have the guts to contact you, since my reaching out always fall into deaf ears.
I did what I love to do during that weekend, and all I can think about while doing so, is you—how you and I spent times together, chilling together, laughing at our own stories, the eye contacts and the hand movements that simply contradicts the things you say to me.
When I do indulge myself into what is my Happiness, it is always coupled with thoughts of you.
My life has already been filled by thoughts of you.
Is it nil to think that I have the same impact on you?