Round and Round

With that hazy glow of moon and the presence of little hibuscus plant beside me that doesn’t bear any hibuscus yet, I go back to the glass of memories that seem to collapse on me everytime I sit in the balcony at 2 a.m. “Hi,” I think of texting him. I think of calling him. His number’s still imprinted on my mind though I’ve tried to erase it a million times. Maybe the delete button just doesn’t work anymore. Just like me, he would be awake for sure. Maybe not thinking about me but drinking with his friends. But he would be awake for sure and he would pick up my call and we’d talk. We’d pour our hearts out, tell each other how much we’ve missed talking and round and round we’d go, roaming in circles, trying to work it out but failing to do so. You see, love isn’t soemthing we lack. It was the word trust that we struggle to understand. Everytime we’d start with a resolution to never let it end and it would be flowery and rythmical in the beginning but after a while, we’d come to a conclusion that love just isn’t enough. Maybe some people just aren’t meant to be. So I take a circle again. Call it an addiction or infatuation but I just couldn’t resist it. Maybe some mistakes are meant to be repeated.


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