Not A Love Letter

I have known you in a way I am well aware I would not let myself know someone again.
You asked me why I never looked into your eyes. I guess, I know this thing won't last.

I remember how you pulled my chin just so I would look at you. But I refuse to do so.
The same way my heart refuse to fall, deeply.

We walked for a long time. Talked about nonsense to deep ones until we reached the climax.
Pushed each other until we gave up.

You said I should not stay too close to a drowning man.
You were right about that. But you have forgotten one thing:
I already got drowned the moment I saw you.

Now I am here sitting, thinking about "The Planet of the Apes".
Of course, I am kidding. You are in my mind.
That I am already letting go, now.

I will never forget when we had a "sweet" dinner in MOA.
How we had a "romantic" breakfast.
Of course, the exceptional vomit came through my mouth while we're in the jeep.
How you calm me and took care of my vomit.
How you graciously throw it along with the other trash.
Same as what happened to this sweet, romantic, exceptional relationship of ours.

I vomited, you took care of it, then throw in the trash.
I am sorry for vomiting Love. Yours, I may add.

Au revoir.