Au Revoir

So I guess it's time to say goodbye, isn't it? Funny that it ends here like this. Life, as it turns out, isn't without her share of mischief. But I shall remember you, or at least I hope that I will. Although it's impossible to know how the pawns will move, I would at least like to believe that the dirt of their footprints won't completely smudge out your memory. And my little stash of our bittersweet time together would be strong enough to rough out the amnesia of passing time. But I make no promises. To you, I can only offer the pictorial perfection of a desire. It suffers, my dear, from a fragility which often breaks it into shards as one tests it under the tip of graphite. But desire I surely do, and you will remain my... my, inasmuch as the virginity of my desire is true.

 

I understand that it won't be easy. Neither the fingerprints on the handle nor the sculpted cream are as flimsy as they are made out to be. Afterall it's not the trivialities which bother us but their abrupt endings, isn't it? So when the window goes dark and the sand beside me goes cold, when the beat of footsteps becomes sadly periodic and I grow indifferent to the prospects of ambient sounds, I hope I'll remember you. I hope the small sticker in my wallet and the disgusting bitterness of caffeine would rush in your memories. But let's not be too bothered by hopes and conjectures here for time is pressing on us. Let me take a pause while you speak. And speak in that carefree, enthusiastic flavor which has had me rapt in attention so often and for so long. And I promise to be captivated in your varicolored world as I always did, I promise to be lost to mundane reality. These are the last few minutes and I wish for you to begin a long story, a story of bright sunny days and fresh, pebbled nights, a story of the cup which, until today, was never half empty.