I am terrible when it comes to baking, but I can give you a share of my half-baked promises without thinking twice:)

The conversations of last year ran at the pace of light at the back of my mind. Promises are meant to be broken, you said nonchalantly underlying the moonlight syllables of silk rolling from your tongue.

It has always been this way.

I rot in my bed on Sunday morning, counting out all the promises I had made. Calculating all the 'it will be okay, I promise' at the back of my eyelid, yet, it has never been the same. Deep-shallow. The promises I made were deep enough to bathe in the tub of sins. Shallow enough to smell like a sinister — however the world is for none but for a malignant who walks with a chin held high, ignorant of the innocents, dying under the rough stubble of his.

The uncertain click of the keys on the keyboard made sure that every explanation of mine was bitter enough to taste like coffee on my tongue. I hate coffee. Once a tourist told me that the more you dip the reality in sugar syrup, the more it will be hard to swallow.

We still talk, we still do, the usual but not so usual. The guilt made me insomniac. The sound of someone dragging the furniture at night doesn't haunt me as much as the thought of losing you in the middle of nowhere.

You once said that you love cookies and cakes, so on one random afternoon, I did what I never thought I would ever do. There's a first for everything, let it be baking or betraying the life principle of yours  The untouched kitchen flourished with a pack of flour and a whiff of burnt cookies was strewed in the neighbourhood, discerning my existence.

In the matter of setting the oven ablaze for a few, I stumbled upon your apartment with my half-baked cookies. Cookies that tasted like sugary cubes of goodbyes that were garnished with chocolate chips of uncertainty. Yet, you accepted them with a warm smile that reminded me of the Summers I spent at my grandmother's. So I blurted out everything without thinking about the consequences.

"We are baking these cookies together next time, I can't be eating these half-baked experiments of yours, for the rest of my life." And up to date, you have stuck to your words religiously, which pushed me to give you the other half of mine, without giving a thought.