Of Cliche and Love

            December, 20**         I tapped the screen of my phone, hoping, praying, maybe he sent me a text, maybe he tried to call me, maybe he sent me a photo, or anything, or maybe he forgot about me already.         I sighed as I finish my coffee, looking at nothing outside the glass wall of the coffee shop. It's a busy Sunday morning, Christmas is in the air, people are rushing, coming and going from everywhere, and here I am, thinking of a particular place, a particular person. How I don't belong there, and how he doesn't belong to me.         Maybe this is how life is supposed to be for me. If only love isn't complicated, and cliché, and stupid, if only I wasn't stupid. I feel the warm, salty, tears run down my cheeks, it hasn't been long since I last cried for him, as my shoulder start to shake, I was taken back to the memories he and I made not too long ago.         Of how crazy, cliché and madly our love and life had been, and how in a flash, we parted ways. Of how we bade our love goodbye.