If I die tomorrow

If I die tomorrow
would you
miss me?

Would you miss
the dance of my naked footsteps
on the cold wooden floor

Would you miss
my voice
in your ears

Would you miss
getting lost
in my coffee pool eyes

Would you miss
my laugh
echoing through your heart

Will you miss
the way
the rise
and
the fall
of my chest quickens
when you’re near

Will you miss
how I tug
at your heart strings
with such ease

or how easily
you tug
at mine

Would you miss
the taste of spices
on my skin
from turning my empty house
into a home
whenever I cooked
for you

Would you miss
my Ying
to your Yang

Will there be
an empty space
in your heart
from all the times
I rested
my ear against you
to listen
to the song
that
your heart sings

Will there be
an empty space
in your heart

your heart

where you keep
a special place
for me

and

what about your mind?

Will it be
the same
when I’m gone

or

Will you always
remember the nights
we spent
talking about
our true selves
and
how we’ll
take over the
world
and
dreamed about
having skinny feet
together

Will you remember

That
your eyes
are
my favorite color

That
your “hello”
is
my favorite sound

That
your warmth
is
my favorite feeling

Will you miss
me
the way
I already miss you?

I miss the star

Stars. Hundreds of stars. Sometimes, even million.

I miss lying down on the ground and seeing those stars. When the grass used to be the comfortable mattress, and the chill in the air used to awaken every sensual part of you. When I used to wonder looking in the infinite mass-less space whose non-existential presence I still question. The hours ticked away, and the birds went silent, with the occasional chirping of their hungry ones, and I still laid there, just looking. Was it true that those are our ancestors? Or that rare falling star will fulfill my wish? It never did, though. Maybe it was too busy with others’ wishes. So many weak people asking for that ‘one’ wish. It must have been really busy. But how did it pick one out? Destiny? Or some random algorithm to find out who deserved it more than all the others? Maybe it’s the instinct of the star.

But you know what? I don’t care if it didn’t fulfill my wish. Or in case, anybody else’s also. It’s still a star, in fact a rare falling star, and people still crave for it. It’s still breathtakingly beautiful and can’t be forgotten anytime soon. The sight of that star makes you feel life is worth living for. Every small moment of that beauty makes your living justified. No matter if it comes once a month, or even a year, it’s always surprises you, amazes you, makes you feel needy and bring out your emotions for what you really want and desire.

I miss lying down on the drew covered grass and see that falling star.

I miss my falling star.