I saw you on the bus today. I don't think you saw me.
I wanted to message you, to say hi and stuff, but I hesitated.
Perhaps cause skeletons in closets aren't meant to be released.
Or is it cause it's all water under the bridge?
But can happiness be kept under the bridge, locked away, forgotten?
Don't we thrive on happiness, crumble under sadness, and continue living?
You looked stressed, un-radiant, unlike how you looked like ago.
Gosh. Has it been a year?
And to think it started when you laid on the couch.
Time does pass by. Two swallows that once met are now miles apart, each with their own lives; their own rivers that flow of its accord; two wires that trail in un-similar directions.
You were special. But friendships can't survive without time spent together, and a mistake made is a mistake for life.
And that I'll live with.
