Him & Me on Sunday night. Him flower shopping in Raffles City, me waiting for him outside. Looking into my phone, standing at the girlfriend corner.
Him & Me on Sunday night. Him eating a half roti at Poulet, me picking at a red velvet from Twelve Cupcakes. Him refillable water, me Dasani bottled water.
Him & Me on Sunday night. Him Massimo Dutti, me Japanese MUJI. Him Above & Beyond at That CD Shop, me honey and spring onions at The Marketplace.
Him & Me on Sunday night. Him Benjamin Barker, me Pull & Bear. Him flowers for a woman, me company for a grey-aread man.
Him & Me on Sunday night. Him Takashimaya, me Victoria’s Secret. Him picking out my potential courter, me picking out his potential suitor.
A Honda Accord, a basement carpark.
A maxi dress, a leather front seat.
A branded handbag, a shipment to China.
A laptop and wooden chest in the trunk.
Like a wife, like an escort.
Like a handbag, like an accessory.
I am me, defined by him.
Comparing figures, comparing lives.
Comparing shopping, comparing wives.
Not a couple, not in love.
Just an image, just an idea.
Just a perception, just a thought.
In love with a thought
In love with an idea
In love with an image
In love with a perception
Not with myself
Not with him.