Shattered mirrors.

I used to be obsessed with it. 

I would drowned myself with novels about it, googled it, dreamt of it, craved for it. 

It was to the point of yearning the possibility of the impossible. 

Draining me, drip by drip. 

As I aged, it slowly fades off, as though it no longer can keep up with my aging. Not wanting to really forget me, it locked itself away deep inside me. 

It was so latent that I almost already forgot my past affair with it. 

Yet, tonight, that strange feeling of allure to it rekindles. 

It roused back to life; into my life. 

With you clouding up my mind.

I used to know you so well. 

– P.



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