If i walk it enough times alone, will it eventually stop feeling like ours?

Maybe someday, every ‘coffee shop’ along Slamet Riyadi will just be coffee shops again.

Maybe i’ll walk down Slamet Riyadi, without remembering which parts of the sidewalk you used to walk on beside me.

I wonder if places move on, too.

Or, if they just keep holding onto everything, cause we were too busy living to notice.

Sometimes i take the longer way home,

And i think i’m not ready to find out, what that road looks like now.

Would you recognize the place, the way i do?

Would you look at the building across the street
and think, “oh, we used to come here”

Or would it just be another Tuesday for you?

And somewhere between all those ordinary afternoons,

This city became a scrapbook, neither of us ever agreed to keep.

Maybe one day I’ll walk Slamet Riyadi again.

Maybe i’ll even stop at that place we used to call ours. And maybe nothing will happen.

Because, perhaps, that’s the cruel thing about leaving someone behind.

You don’t just have to learn how to live without them, but, you have to teach every place you loved together, how to belong to you again.

And if i ever walk that street without thinking of you,

I hope i don’t feel like i lost something.

I hope i will feel like

I finally came home.