1 + 1 is 3

On Saturdays, it feels like forever since I laid my eyes on you. 

I wake up to the smell of sandalwood, tonka bean and amber — your cologne all lingering on my sheets from the last time I saw you. But it was only yesterday - time seems to be distorted after we meet. 

I wander through my apartment compound, passing by the parking lot — thinking when will I see your car in box 285 here again, soon. The exact same space you occupy every time you come — the exact same part of my mind you occupy every time you leave. 

I sit on one end of my sofa, turning to the right, the other end and think about how you were here just a while ago - giving me a foot massage and telling me stories of your days, your challenges and all about your interests. Even if I don’t particularly understand, the fact that you share them with me, puts the biggest smile on my face.

I take the lift to the rooftop, and look into the distance toward your side of town, and I can’t help but to feel a sudden wave of emotion. There can’t possibly be a word in the dictionary that could encapsulate how I feel. I close my eyes, shedding a tear, two then a few more. All running down my cheeks to form a drip on my chin - like raindrops from a zinc roof. No amount of fresh air from floor 32 could ease the lack of oxygen in my lungs and overwhelming love in my heart knowing that you are there, with her. 

No amount of pain could compare to the torment of a fragile heart. It aches, I can feel it beating so fast. If my heart had feet, it would be jumping up and down, do a run up, leap out my body, sprint towards you. If my heart had hands, it would grab you by the collar, shake you back and forth, and softly scream “Can’t you tell how much the one I belong to loves you?”. And if my heart had lips, it would kiss you like it was the last few minutes on Earth. 

So now, what do I do?