only a memory, only mine

see me off, dear sweet summer rain
so that we’ll keep walking even while crying
to the beginning that we trust

___

how long has it been ever since, I guess is only rhetorical question whose answer is also vague as well — probably years, and it should have been another distant period of time already. yes, it should; along with whatever may lie within, and that’s how it was supposed to be.

supposed. or so, but it’s never that simple after all.

it has been years already, or so as I remember it. fond memories, perhaps. but even memories are only fragile, and ephemeral; only as vague proof of someone living a life, residing only inside its very owner.

but is a memory precious, if it’s never of truth to begin with?

walking through the hallway, I stepped on the unchanging path I used to take on those years. no longer I will, but I guess it’s only nostalgic; the classroom that looked as if freezing in time. the leftmost seat on the second row I used to take. and everything else of the story that never was, standing in the hollow silence.

she used to be there. but then again, the whole situation was a mistake; everything was never of truth on the first place, and those moments were only facade. perhaps everything was wrong to begin with, and it was never supposed to be anything to me back then. perhaps not even to that girl, not even to anyone else.

because what was everything to me was never meant to be true to begin with.

the whole situation was a mistake. even if I were to wish, it’s only meaningless; if only things didn’t go this way, if only things didn’t go that way — in the end, it was never of truth to begin with.

but still, even if everything is only lie, only to that moment I want to believe. it’s only small and fragile as I recall, but I want to believe in that something I saw on that moment — even if it was only a little shard of truth, even if it was only that of an ephemeral moment.

perhaps it’s meaningless. but only for this time, only for that reason, I want to believe in her for whatever it was back then.

it was a memory only mine. to the others, it’s simply a mistake — or doesn’t even exist to begin with. no matter what, no matter how it was back then; in the end, that’s all there is to it.

the distant sunset in front of my eyes, faraway as those moments to me. grasping the suffocating reminiscence under the scenery of vermilion shades — there I was, realizing; it was never that simple, after all.

August, few years back. I met her. I learned of that something I used to have, as well as that something I wanted to discard later then.

August, this year. I learned that those memories are always there; along with the lingering traces of affection, and the vivid reminiscence that refused to let go.

as I think about it now, it has been a while; I guess that’s the way it is, but I don’t really mind anyway.

someday, I’ll probably forget about her. I’ll probably forget about her face, and I’ll probably forget about those memories as well. but I guess I’ll remember; how those things used to be on that moment, how she used to be there — and how I used to love her.

…yeah. I loved her.

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