Spelling Mistake

Brighter than sunshine. Lighter than feather. I'm all that whenever I'm inside you.

The last time I saw you was around 5 years ago. Was it? No, it was a lot more than that. No... it was probably more than 5 but no more than 8. Well, I can't remember. I can't remember when is when anymore. But does it matter now? No, it doesn't. And that's what's happening. Nothing matters now. Nothing at all.
I can still smell your skin. You and you only liked that woody perfume. I must confess I hated it. But falling for you was more than hating your strangely choice of perfume. I had to love everything about you. If not love, well, it was a lot like love.
I'm here at the coffee shop. This place is packed of strange faces and acquaintances. It's funny how none of them remind me of you. Even the most attractive girl does not resemble you at all. Of course she doesn't. How could she? She doesn't smell of wood, she doesn't drink latte, and she's a very happy girl. I'm not saying that you're not happy. But how could you be happy when you're lost in this world you don't belong to? I wonder.
You distractively placed your eyes on me a couple of times. Did you ever know that I had mine on you from the very first day you came into my life? I saw you shyly smiling at me the other day before that guy pop in. But was it real, or just my fantasy?
You don't exist. You never did. All I can say is I've made my dreams almost real. Almost?! They've swallowed part of my everyday life! What almost... They've haunted me every single day here in this coffee shop waiting, seeing, longing for someone who never existed in real apart from in my dreams! But the strange thing is: it was close enough for me to feel your heartbeat, whenever I thought I saw you... in here.

Don't Spell It Out For Me, Please.

You are early today. You don’t look as peaceful as usual. What happened? The look on your face seems so distant from this humid corner of the world, it makes me wonder how on earth a beautiful creature like you becomes so lost. And all I can think of is that even stars fall, and we are only humans... You glanced at me twice from the moment you pop in until you sat down. And now I’m staring at you, directing a fictional play here, up here in my head. You are indeed the main actress. But who am I? I’m just part of the audience. I’m having my third cup of coffee while you are looking more anxious than ever. What is going on? You keep looking at your watch. You must be waiting for someone. And I wonder who that person might be. There he comes. I can’t hear your conversation but I must confess I’m dying to. Yes, I have to admit I’m terribly fascinated by the way you step into this little coffee shop. The way you gently take your seat and how you sip your hot cup of latte. I don’t drink latte, but watching you having yours, makes me want to have it through your lips. Every little gesture you make, drives me close to ecstasy. Am I exaggerating? Yes. I’m an exaggerator by nature. I can’t help it. But one thing is for sure: I’m dying to talk to you. Just when I thought I could break my shell today, there you are with someone else. Who told me to stop being a stranger? Who told me to take risks? If I said I was dying to talk to you, I’m sorry. I was lying. Because if I really was, I’d have moved forwards, looked at you in the eye and said: can we spend some time together drinking our hot lattes? But I didn’t and I’m not courageous enough to do so now. There’s nothing wrong in being a stranger. Or is it? I don’t need anyone to spell it out for me. Yes I’ve given up.

Empty Seat

I was staring at you waiting for your answer. But instead of switching on your heart, you let the heat die and carried on talking with your brain. Yes, with your brain. A cold, dry and excessively conscient brain of yours.
Peolpe ask a lot of questions. I asked you several ones but you were only able to answer a few. Well, I guess they were more than enough. I prefer sticking to the unknown, to the unsure paradise rather than facing the shocking truth. So yes, you did fine, my dear.
Do I love you enough? You asked. I was surprised to hear that from you. And I said yes. I wanted to say no but I was too scared of my own feelings. I didn't want to show you my childish, jealous and greedy sides. And I would never want you to think I was one of those who were always asking for more, who were never satisfied, and who were constantly hungry for the other half's attention. No. I didn't want that to happen, to ruin our already broken hearts. Do you want me to love you more? You asked. And again I was as surprised as a kid who never passed on his exams and, for some strange reasons or miracles, he passed one. And one was enough. Yes if you could. I whispered. I wasn't sure if you heard that. But I'm sure you knew my answer before asking your question.
And now I'm staring at the seat waiting for someone to surprise me with questions. How I wish you could have asked me more, my love. And how I wish I could have showed you the childish me, my dear.