There's no song that match perfectly with what I am about to pen down.
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Won't you talk to me,This is so out of hand,Out of hand,Something's gone wrong,With the life that we planned.Won't you look at me,You're avoiding my gaze,And it seems like you've changed,In so many ways.It isn't fair,It isn't right,If it's really gone,Then tell me tonight,If it's over,If it's over,Let me go.
If It's Over |Mariah Carey---------------------------------------------
Yes, h. If it is over, tell me. I don't even know if there was a start with this. I don't even know that, seriously. If you care, would you please tell me has it even started before? I am so clueless right now. Nothing I could do to gather myself back. Nothing.
I knew, in fact, I understand that leaving your question as it was doesn't give me any creams or candies in the future. But I had to, giving the circumstances I was in. I was dumbfounded and simply confused.
Then, the day you said those words came. It was never reconfirmed neither by me nor you- was it a question or was it not. I wasn't quite sure on which either of these would suffice your intention.
"Then, let me be yours." OR "Then, let me be yours?"
So, I wrapped the night of teaching you simple maths with just leaving your words/question unanswered; being a tacenda. An unanswered query. So long the days have passed, we rarely meet. Occasionally, we just bumped into each other, signalling those brow-lifting things that never caught any nearby attention, just to make sure, no one knows- about what had happened.
Months have passed and years have gone. Without noticing, we forget each other, letting bitters and jitters grew hate and distance between us. It wasn't me. I don't hate you. I was still confused about how time had stirred and cooked up your hatred deliciously for me. I am still not informed of any mistakes that may have occurred and should there be any, I am so sorry.
With how I left your question, you left me in exactly the same, hurtful way: by conjuring a glare I would never dare to forget. And then you leave. Yes, you really did.
With how I left your question, you left me in exactly the same, hurtful way: by conjuring a glare I would never dare to forget. And then you leave. Yes, you really did.
For your audience, my little alphabet h.

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