Not for Nought.

Wheedle nought to make amends.

Yes, I cried when I read Your scrawls of a similar fashion a while ago.

Words cleverly weaved that I'd sieved instantly.

Why? Why now?

You broke me when You left without The Call in December 2012.

Did You know how upset I was?

There was I, clutching my phone in my hand and reading the message you'd sent hours after we'd parted ways at 2 AM, "Are you still awake? Want me to call you?" and muttering to myself that the phone would ring.

I missed it and only replied at 2.30AM. I rushed to the pool and waited in the cold till 4AM before trudging back to my abode.

Do You know why I'd missed your text?

I was bawling for I was convinced that I'd lost You after parting ways with you at 8PM.

• I told myself that when You promised You wouldn't disappear, I would take it to be the reverse, that I'd never see You again.

• You said that You'd bring the lil tank I'd crafted and pack the medicine with You despite your limited luggage space. I told myself that You were being polite and not to take it literally.

• When I laughed and teased You on how to outdo yourself for my next Birthday, perhaps on Your ship, You replied in jest that a river cruise would be more permissible but You'd be broke and feast on kaya toast thereafter. I told myself not to be stupid and take it as a tangible promise.

So yes, that was why I was bawling and did not notice Your text.

And You never gave me The Call that would have answered everything.

All I wanted was a tangible word,

One which I'd traded 9 years for, albeit in vain.

I was willing to be shrouded in secrecy, to turn a blind eye because I knew that it would not be for long.

Dear You, I know that the night of Devonshire in 2005 marked the pivotal change. I know that it was MY FAULT that I'd let You down with _____.

If You've been struggling with pain ever since, know that it is far worse on my end, for You were the Boy that I'd finally known after a decade of excessive shyness on my end but never did I expect it yet another decade would transpire with us in this mangled mess.

I'd rather attribute Everything to sheer Coincidence than to live with yet another day of hope, that perhaps It would be Tomorrow.

3000+ Tomorrows over a span of 9 years.

And still, You would not say.

Let that be Enough.

"Dainty lashes of each to preen,
Reflecting that which could have been."