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You remind me of leftover dust in the cracked floors whenever I would sweep them.
You were the left marks that I would see whenever I'd erase something, perhaps, it is your penciled notes.
You were the leftover water stains in the bathroom floors.
You were the crumpled sides that are left in the ironed paper.
You remind me of the uneven ends in my denim.
You were the left melted wax in my rock-hard candles, is it because you don't wanna become a carved statue or is it that you want to light me up again and burn me down to cinders?
You were the grain of rice left in my plate.
You were the left furnitures in an abandoned house.
You were the autumn leaves that are still left in spring, is it because you couldn't prepare for a new season and still waiting for me in the garden?
Stupid little boy, the winds will wash you away.
Silly little me, I have fallen in the dreams of others and not on
my own.
I'm still on a Journey on why I think of you everytime I see random things, is it because you act so much like them or is it that I miss you?
I have still kept those wilted thoughts and remembrance framed inside in the depths of my head, lingering and exploring what really are you, perhaps that you and I are stuck in the same season, waiting for each other.
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©sarah_
J