misery

Travelling in the metro is difficult. I keep looking.

I keep searching for a hint of you, mere coincidence.

And while my eyes scan through the crowds, tears collect. 

Waiting for me to break, and fall. As much as I want to deny it, I am miserable in the metro. In my favorite museum. In that garden. In that restaurant. I am miserable.

I hope you're doing good. That's all that keeps me from reaching out. I know I am unwanted. I am sorry for crossing my boundaries. I won't be there now. I am just so sorry to have wasted your time.

I am sorry that someday you'll speak of me like you spoke of everyone that wasn't with you anymore to someone.