Lost boy

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 On a sunny yet windy June day, I give out posters to random passersby on the street.

With a worried tone, I ask them if they've seen the man on the poster. He's been missing. I ask them if they can identify the man, for he's been long gone. I ask them if they've seen a man who is slightly taller than me, a slight tilt of my head is all that's needed to see his twinkling eyes. A man with a smile that is ever so rare yet like an innocent stretch of glee similar to that of a child's. A few of those on his face is enough to ease the world's troubles. I ask them if they've seen a man who walks around with a lost gaze yet can put me in my place. A man who has this endless need to use complex vocabulary yet bad grammar. If you find this man, Tell him I'm okay. I've missed him but I'm okay. Tell him I've missed how he sounds through messages and unexpected calls. I've missed his warm hands on my cold cheek and the certainty I had. Tell him I've missed him but I'm okay. As the day ends, I hand out the last few flyers. To strangers, I pass it on and tell them, if they've found him to not let me know. If by any chance, they identify him, Tell him that I hope he is happy. And that I've waited a long time hoping he'd come back or never leave like he promised. But now that he's gone, tell him I loved him but also tell him to never return.

Written on : 7 June 2017

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