Growing Apart

“where on the earth did we go wrong?” I whisper to myself as I watch him pack his things. 

It’s been fifteen minutes since his arrival, and I can see quickly how my room has been a part of him for this two past years. Two drawers on the wardrobe, the right-side of the night-stand, two compartments by the bookcase, a part of him lives in these corner of this room.

We used to be in love. Like, crazy.

We used to up all night, talking about our childhood memories. Our fears. Our dreams. Our likes and dislikes. 

Or we used to skip work, going to places that we just found on internet on the night before.

We used to go around the city, seeing the city-lights, walking on his favourite deck by the night, and just holding hands.

We used to hug and cuddle up when it rained. If it’s weekend, we did it all day.

We used to celebrate each other’s achievement by dinner on the balcony with the city-lights view. I cooked our favourite meals (it was grilled shrimp with creamy sauce) and he set up the table for us.

He used to buy me a bucket full of lilies and made a bed-breakfast on our anniversary. I used to brought him a dinner when he had to work overtime.

it’s like all I ever need is only him, and vice versa.

And then, this happened. I don’t even find a right word or phrase to describe it. It just feels like a part of me is gone.

Kisses turn into fights.

Hugs turn into sleep in silence.

Pillow talks turn into cry out myself to sleep.

All we had to work this relationship out, are gone.

“Where on the earth did we go wrong?” I finally open my mouth as he holds the door-knob.

He turns his head towards me. He sighs.

“Nothing. We just grow. And what we had yesterday, is keeping us from growing.”

Clack. Now the door is closed. 

This heart,

and this room,

is never been this empty since he left.

It’s like someone draws a black hole on one side of the wall, and it eats out everything in here. 

Leave me nothing but traces of him that I couldn’t forget for the rest of my life.