Death are Clouds not Rain

Things that have died would not be able to resurrect in the natural. The raising of the dead takes a miracle.

When I met you, you have made me realise a part of me.

The part of me that enjoy every bit of being with you. The part of me that want to build a future together with you. The part of me that loves every little thing you do or don't do.

When you left me and told me you need a break, a part of me died. Hopes of flames that were burning strong flickered with doubt which are as contagious as its nemesis - hope.

As the days go by, we share lesser of our lives with each other. Walls to protect your happiness becomes barricades that blocks me from you. The space of respect, room and time that I willingly give to you forms a moat around the fort you've build.

When rays of hope shine at the right direction unhindered with specks of grey doubtful clouds, even when tears of disappointment showers, a rainbow of a better tomorrow forms.

You can't see what I can give you. Then I don't think we are meant to do this together. I can't be the one persuading you. You have to be convinced yourself. Clearly, you're not.