Back.
With a revenge? I don't know for certain.

When I look at her fake lenses, and similarity to me, I wonder if what's holding you back is me or her? Or both. Or that there's nothing to hold back.

It's a nagging fear. But I guess it comes from an intense intersection within me.

You reach out to grab my hand, withdraw and follow it by expressing your desire to hold my little finger.
You're making me fall. I fall because you warm my heart with you quirks, the resonating laughter as a result of your company and your yellow melodies. Because with your yellow and my peach we make sunshine.

I'm falling. You're quiet.
Put a finger to my mouth, will you?

Between abbreviations and little cryptic signs of batted eyelids, she carves out a shadow.
It's black, but ofcourse.

Folded into neat curves and sharp edges, she pricks her finger.
It's crimson.

Yet, it's not the first time.

July won't remain the same for me either.
Leaving aside the Crazy, your red passion seeps through the complex harnesses of my facade. It warms me and surrounds me with hope.
There are signs, you know?
Signs that the state of cold feet is what I desire.
Signs that you must pick up that note and live it out.

Thank you, though.
You made me believe.
So when I said I'll keep in touch with you forever, I mean it too.

You remind me of a sunflower.

Shiny and bright, as if all you do is emit a yellow-purple sunshine. Then a smile slowly carves itself on my lips every time I see you.

The pink tinge, coupled with a melange of colors on you. With your fruity fragrances, and the indulgences that make you beam even further.

With your garbled words that is a reflection of a working mind, and your neatly chalked out hopscotch boxes, you follow the setting sun in hope of a brighter moon.

I had to write this down not because I am lovesick. I write this note because when I become a grandmother, and sunflowers don't exist anymore, I'll still think of you more or less in the same light :)