Why I write

Goodbye, Unsaid

 The day you left it was windy like the universe was getting me ready for the cold lonely nights to come. The day you left the alley was quite just like the house I get back to, like my response to your long goodbye speech. The day you left half of the drawers in my closet were empty just like my heart, half empty ever since.

         Did you feel bad because I didn't utter a single word? Did my silence make you feel like you’re the only one aching to our parting or my dry eyes make your tears worthless? Did my cold hug make your warm embrace shiver? Did you look back and when you can't see a trace of me, feel like I abandoned you already?

But most of all did you ever ask what I've been doing ever since you left? I shut myself in my room and write. I couldn't make sense out of everything-the silence, the emptiness in my heart, the cold in my belly, the gloomy day, the birds not chirping anymore-but only answer one question. Why I write?

I write of all the goodbyes unsaid in my life and here is one for you. . .

Yes, I was quiet, not even a single drop of tear from my eyes. I was cold to your touch and left so hastily without one last glance. . .but it's all because. . .