If I look carefully at the sun, which once burned in your hair I can see the outline of your face. It's still there, in the sky…smiling down at me. There's still this story in your eyes. Oh, your eyes. I still remember them vividly.
Blue that faded gracefully to Green, outlined in gray. Just.like.mine.
You always loved looking into my eyes. You always loved making me go crazy.
I always loved it.
Now the wind blows your scent to me and as I inhale, I inhale the pain of our final goodbye like a forsaken love's lost touch. Lost, longing touch. It swirls around me and sends my hair into a whirl, like my mind. It plays with my emotions like an over-powerful ballad, played by an imaginary band. With the words in Korean, its just another thing I don't understand.
Every word makes sense if I think about you. Call it poverty love. We never had more than ten dollars in our pocket, and the flea market was our favorite place. So many simple treasures. So many over looked items no one wanted…just like lovers over-looked, just like love gone to waste, just like loosing the one you love.
Loving you has brought me to this point where I want to rip off my skin with.my.fingernails. because I think it would feel better.