Half of My Heart.


Are you keeping well?


Have you settled in nicely at your new place, had your friends warm the seats of your teak furniture – that dining set, and the sofa with armrests wide enough to hold a beer – the ones we bought together?

Do you still remember how the middle-aged auntie of a sales rep found our banter entertaining, especially when you dramatically declared that your feelings for me would never change, while I rolled my eyes in embarrassment?

Of course, I was secretly pleased at the display of affection – and I’m sure you knew it too.

You said that your dining set had to be a 6-seater, because only then would it be sufficient for J and his partner, S and M, yourself, and me.

Have you already found someone to take my place?


I completed my half-marathon a month ago.

At the 6km point, I slipped and fell, but picked myself up and pressed on. I later realised I was on that same route you took me during one of our long walks to the Gardens.

Do you remember how you were observing the joggers that day, and giving me pointers on the right posture to take when running? I took those tips into consideration.

And when I turned a corner at a familiar spot, I remembered your voice, the feel of my hand in yours, and tears pricked at my eyes.

It must have been the pain from that fresh wound I sustained earlier.


I visited Japan recently.

As the Shinkansen passed Shizuoka, I remembered how you’d mentioned a school trip to the prefecture in December 2017, and that tentative (but hopeful) proposition that I’d join you.

It was the very first time we met, and therefore a rather bold statement to make.

But I was as hopeful as you were – if not more – for this trip to materialise. 


“If we were in the Wizard of Oz, I’d be the Tin Man.”

“Why? Because you’re cold and heartless?”


“No, because I gave my heart to you.”


It appears that you took your heart back

And stole mine, too.


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