Half

"We shouldn't be together anymore..."

I want to be deaf. I don't want to hear those words.

But, I know, sooner or later, the day I hear those words will come.

The day when the brightest sun in August feel as cold as morning sun in December.

I don't want to ask, to beg or even to say anything.

"It's better to let you go first than to see you broken here with me."

How do you want me to react?

I'd better be broken here with you. But, making you even sadder is the last thing I want to do.

I know the end is around the corner. I want to spend our last day together, but I know it will broke your heart. You know it will broke my heart.

So I walk away. Leaving a piece of me and the person whom I spent the half of my live in the white cold room number 304.

...

I miss you, a lot.

I want you back.

But those time will never return.

You will never be return.

The half of my live. The love of my live.