Seven Years

For love never dies, so past loves are indubitably never been loved

I have gone wild and astray, flew thousand miles away from you but those memories still live on. It's silly to still think that it still exists, but I think I indeed am silly. You go away at times, numerous times in fact, but you still haunt me each January, every June.

So here is my confession, to whom and to nobody; I miss you, dearly. My heart still skips a beat whenever I mistaken someone for you, and it's really just you.

How shameless I am to write about you - but note that my inner thoughts might scare you, even more. But I'd like to ask you to remain just like that, and just there, and maybe one day, you'll go away (but please don't just go away).

They say that love reeks of regrets - do you agree with it?