I tried, for a couple of futile times,
but falling in love feels hard when it’s not with you.
That phase when he started text me.
That awkwardness when I should pretend like really want to join a dinner with him because I know he was expecting,
Or that weird sensation when he put his hand on my hand.
All of them felt wrong when it weren’t your eyes that I saw.
When it wasn’t your voice that I hear,
Nor your witty words that I read.
With them, ‘falling in love’ is simply repetitions of cheap romance in those boring sinetrons my grandmother watchs.
Their lines, gestures, kindness, all expected and obsolete,
Like an ads on tv that no one care.
But with you, my darling,
Even the simplest song feels genuine and heart-moving,
The ugliest sentence sounds charming,
And the silence worth-living.
I’ve given up trying to explain everything around me.
Now it’s your turn.
Explain to me, why love is a surreal when you’re in it.
Because I, honestly, don’t understand.