i miss you at midnight
we head for the park hand in hand. we walked like how snails would crawl. seemed a lifetime getting there but we love to take our time. found a patch of grass under a tree dry enough to sit . sitting crosslegged we gazed at the cosmos still covered by the persistent clouds.
hoping to count stars, i gave a sigh and said "no, stars tonight"
"don't worry. those little twinkles never dissapoint" you said with a smile.
"aren't you the possessor of superior optimism. i wish i have those"
silence. one of those comfortable silences. like how uma thurman's character described it in pulp fiction. i love comfortable silences. they make a good dramatic comeback of conversation. proved to be of good effect, everytime.
"will you forget me when you're away?" with a slight tone of hopelessness.
"of course i won't" sternly stamping your assurance "i have the memory of an elephant"
"thank god, not the body" laughing out loud and expecting a slap. smack! there you go. not a second too late. "yes, i deserved that" rubbing my arm slowly burning.
"fate's not letting that happen to us" sheer optimism accompanies your ever radiant smile. "i'm going to keep coming back to you, like a marauding elephant"
i laughed at the cutest analogy ever.
"but, fate's a kid with an antfarm" trying hard to break down the overflow of optimism.
"isn't that from constantine or something?" you asked with an eyebrow raised and a few squints of the eye.
"of course not. i come up with my own stuff"
"look! a star" almost screaming.
you pointed at a star. emerging from the blanket of clouds. dim but twinkling, nonetheless.
"i told you stars never dissapoint" beaming "like a star i'm coming back no matter what. i won't leave you like how the stars never leave the night skies"
i smiled in and out. if that is possible. it's those little things you do that makes me miss you at midnight.
i don't love you,
but, perhaps i do,
for how do i explain my longing,
for you, in the morning, the noon, the evening,
at midnight.



