I stopped at the end of the block,

when I saw a glimpse of a beautiful redhead climbing into a taxi.

It was you.

And I was too late.

So I gave up,

knowing I'd never find you in a sea of look-alike vehicles

as the traffic gradually moved onward.

Retracing my steps,

my gloves no longer removed and my hands furthermore inside my coat pockets,

I felt my heart aching.

Stopping in at the library, I pulled our favorite poetry collection out and flipped it to the very last page. In a pale, cobalt-blue ink, I wrote:

I will forever miss you, my love.

Why yes, the journey was fun while it lasted.

But I'm afraid we've parted.

The times we agreed on inseparability between us shall only lie as a mere daydream of the past,

and I ask that you believe tomorrow withholds something new for only me or for only you.

Not for both of us. We can't be at all alike like we used to.

Goodbye.

P.S- you can keep this book.

...And that was the last time I stepped foot in that store.