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Dead Conversations?

Hi. Hey. You good. Yeah. I miss you. Fuck; I resent these conversations. I feel the same when you leave me on grey ticks. See, we can talk about sports, about weather or even politics. You can make me some music, I’m good with lyrics. Shallow ends, deep ends, back and forth; that’s Physics. I am good at Geography, you are good at Mathematics. How about you explore my Rift Valleys while I explore your Geometry. I mean, you got tools more than a geometrical set.

I am sure I can encompass you so we construct a great conversation. The late night notifications that give us an addiction. We don’t have to go through liver failure; sorry, love failure and love malnutrition. You know I am your best medication.

Why do we have to be heartbroken by WhatsApp? I miss the days we’d stare at the skies to see what’s up. The whispers under the Estrella. Now you vibing with Stella. There’s Diana, Helena and I also saw you with Emanuella. Fuck. Why do I have to pin you on my chat whilst you pin some other girl on your door mat?

Half past eleven. You haven’t replied to my good morning text. You tell me you miss me. No, I don’t miss you. I miss your kisses for breakfast. And you didn’t care to ask whether I already had my breakfast. Of course I didn’t. I just wanted to let you know I woke up with the smile you dressed me in my dreams.

Do you know why our conversations are flat? You deflated the tires that took us through the paths of our love. Now the rivers of you dried and the oceans of us are almost extinct.

Maybe we can work it out. Maybe we can press on restart instead of switching to a new user. Press enter, log in to a new us because the past can be history and we need a new mystery.

Relationships are a game—let’s not abide by the rules of the game. Step on my lane. I don’t even know my name. Or maybe I am insane. Two hundred contacts on my phone but your status is my only preference. Hey, I miss you. You don’t have to make me feel like hearts made like mine break the fastest. Instead let us break the rules. Don’t grab me into some dark place, just kiss me at the pavement end. You wanna spank my ass, it’s OK, do it at the elevator. It’s already noon. Come over at my office. You gotta reply fast. Oh, come on, no one is coming. Do you like how I lay at the table. Whispers. Holy hell in a bucket. The CCTV is on. We never mind, after all we breaking every rule.

Hey. Hi. Let’s talk about our babies’ names. I want three. They must look their father. Ah, you read the newspaper today?

Hit me up on every kind of conversation. Every text of yours is sensational. It doesn’t matter the expensive watch we wear on our hands. The Calvin Klein doesn’t guarantee us of a good time. And the selfies on social media that make you go nuts; that’s not love, that’s more of lust. Fuck, I love you.

Hi. Hey. I miss you. In fact I’m glad that the universe conspired to help me find you…

For the stars that glitter in the distance.

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