If one day, the stars would tell me that they can no longer be aligned,
And that somewhere along the way, there's a distance that grew between us now.
I'd pack my bags and go on a journey with no maps.
To some destination that looks like where we used to be, but where my feet have not yet taken me.
I'd bring those worn-out shoes that remained glued to the ground despite of restless feet that had flights of fancy.
I'd remember to bring the chipped mug that warmed up those harsh nights when darkness hovered around me.
I'd take the tear-stained pillowcase that's soaked up all of my unsaid words to remind me of the cost of silence.
I'd want to bring that torn piece of paper that I kept from that rainy day when you made me laugh. (Although, in truth, I kept many similar pieces of paper that reminded me of many other days with you as well.)
But if before I even reach that predestined place, I am stopped along the way, and I get told off for my excess baggage,
Out of all the souvenirs I've collected along the way, I'd choose to keep the smile that I wore each time I thought of my days spent with you.