Insomnia Cookie, when she gets homesick, for the chocolate chip cookies. She can’t help, missing the little things, once so ordinary. The fragments of croissant pastry, the Japantown stationary, The bird chirping in the morning scene, or the ordinary blossom tree. A side note of “regret”, and yet she can’t regress back. A voice deep down that wanna cry, but she keeps it intact. I can’t say that I miss her, cuz she told me that I shouldn’t. Since I only bought a one-way flight ticket, and decided I wouldn’t. She told me that I was only missing the version imaginary, And it’s true — yet not quite, it feels more than memory. The imaginary felt so real, flashes passing every day, Looping, softly rushing through my mind, then fading away. I trynna recreate the feeling of faimiliarity, Trying to, bake the same cake she made so carefully, Trying to, eat the same food she once knew, Trying to, play the same songs she listened to, Trying to, shape my words in the way she used to, I am trying so hard, to be someone new in this place, And trying so hard, not to miss her trace. Yet I can’t define who I am without her, Since she was me, where I grew up and became her. I tried to forget, and rebuild someone new, Yet it’s so hard, not by words, But by subtle connections that I lose. I lost the way I spoke, laughed, Sipped coffee by window’s glass. It’s breaking down again, yet hard to restore, Falling apart, then forming once more. I tried so hard to shield my emotions by laughing so hard, yet it’s aching to tell, I miss her a bit too much. She wish me well, and yet it became a spell. So I keep all my missing in a quiet well.
