Tears fall down.

She ask me with a serious expression on her face hoping that I will think more about it. 

Hoping that I won't cry later in future. I know she loves me.

Regret is a suitable word.

Tears on my eyes whispering,

               “Don’t worry. We won’t fall hard.”

Like ‘they’ do last time. Falling without knowing when to stop.

It feels like someone pushing me from my back. 

It tore me apart.

It burnt the past.

Luckily it only feels like.