Lately, I’ve been thinking how I've never fallen in love.

Until you came.

I’ve realized this much when I received a phone call saying my mother has died. Everything lost its color that day - that everywhere I look I see all the paint retreating, vanishing like how waves backs away but never to kiss the shores again nor to crash its being into the boulders of what feels like home. My heart fattened with sorrow that I feel I could burst like thrown paint balls on the walls. My veins clogged with the heaviness with this sudden news yet thoughts of you lingered like oxygen in my blood. I am being reminded that you exist among this hundred of insignificant people and how each breathing cycle, reminds me of beauty and of disappointment of having to watch you go. I feel that there’s a stain on my Sunday dress that no amount of detergent, salt or rubbing can erase. That even if my hands skin scrapes, its existence never ceases.

I wanted to curl in sadness  by your side and let your silence still my shaking shoulders into comfort. But a year ago, I let your warmth go.

In this cloudless afternoon, I thought of how I never have felt love before you and how helpless I feel. Like my own body betrayed me for letting your presence linger on the lines of my palms, your heat in every curve and every uttered word echoes in my eardrums and how I remember the little things. Little things like how your mouth curves downward when i make you wait and those apologetic eyes when you realize you were being insensitive for a moment there.

I miss you.

It’s been a year and more yet i still feel the hollowness of the space you once occupied. I thought time can close all kinds of wounds. But I guess, there’s no kind of stitch that could stop a heart from bleeding nostalgia.

So I let myself embrace the realization that i lost the only man I have fallen deeply in love with and it doesn’t hurt that much anymore. Only sometimes, when the town sleeps - it gnaws and begs to be noticed.

and she breaks like rain,

sprinkling a piece of her

in every place

hoping the petrichor

could heal the wounds

drought has brought

but it takes more than rain

to make the rivers 

all over the wrecked cities

rise again.

and so every night,

she hides between vacant sheets

and how in silence, she weeps

The land was barren, the sky was black and all that were left of that night were ravished by wolves hidden in the shadows of old storybooks, waiting eagerly to pounce upon their unsuspecting prey when they reached a certain page. It was the same every time but the cataclysmic memory faded into a mere reverie inside her holocaust of thoughts. Darkness became a battlefield inside her mind as ghosts tend to haunt her dreams. It was in this abyss of phantoms that she learned how to fight off her own demons. Every night, she would chase crimson butterflies and end up falling deep into a rabbit hole where everything was not as it would seem.

“Tic Toc”, chimed the old grandfather clock in the living room, announcing it was already midnight. The girl had bags under her eyes since she was trying so hard to avoid sleep but to her misfortune, she eventually dozed off on the couch and butterflies materialized before her yet again, beckoning her to follow their trail. But suddenly, these colorful bugs disappeared into a haze of violet smoke and as she took a step further, she plummeted deep inside a burrow that was only small enough for a girl her size to fit in.

She was unceremoniously knocked unconscious after the fall. Weird chirping sounds brought her awake and she was surprised to see her reflection in a hall of many mirrors. These mirrors reflected her in odd shapes, some with big elfin ears and some with humungous fingers and big fish lips. She eventually found a mirror that had strange writings on it that she couldn’t quite decipher. She couldn’t find her reflection on it, only words. “Curious.” she exclaimed and tried to touch the symbols while pointing her finger towards it. And just like magic, she was sucked inside the mirror leaving her dazed and confused as ever.

Something growled from behind her and she screamed, surprised to see a small wolf limping towards her. She was afraid but instead of running away, she decided to be brave and beckoned the animal into her arms. The cub was unexpectedly docile and whimpered as she scratched its ears. She ripped the sleeves of her sweater and wrapped its left leg, bandaging the wound to stop it from bleeding. “It must be hungry.” she thought and carried the cub as she went on her journey, gathering wild berries on their way for food.

It was almost dark and the girl was glad she had the white furry animal for company. When they reached a small clearing near a riverbank filled with fruit trees and bushes with more berries, the girl also collected some twigs and rubbed them together until they sparked and flames started to appear.

“Tic Toc”, chimed the old grandfather clock in the living room, rousing her from sleep. It was almost morning but the land was barren, the sky was black. Crimson butterflies appeared in her thoughts. Darkness was her battlefield.

Mori,

I am sitting alone in this cafe and I swear my head is crowded with thoughts of you. Whether I am alone or in another's company, I feel there's no way to breathe but to drown with the talking moments we shared (even if they weren't too much of them lately. I'm not complaining - yet.).

I roll my eyes all over the place and all I could think of was the time when we talked about how you'd like to own a bistro someday. We agreed on what shape the tables would be - round. I told you that i love round tables for they make the people closer and everyone sees each other's eyes whether it's sparkling like Armand de Brignac Rose or as lonely as an empty bottle of beer and how you tried to crush the exuberance I showed when you told me that you like round because it saves space and not because of the stupid sentiments I just poured out. You reiterated how simple minded you are and how dramatic i was. I let your practicality escaped into a cascading laughter. I know you were trying to tell me how your bones have been bleached out of romance.

 Let me tell you now, I know how "unromantic" you are.

I know the thought of romance causes allergic reaction to your skin. Remember when i told you how the word hello was invented? Without hesitation, you told me that Graham Bell never really liked that word and how he preferred "ahoy" over the name of his girlfriend. And i smiled because no kind of discouragement can change my mind, my dearest. Believe it or not, happy ever after is something i have in abundance within the confines of my soul. No kind of "faith crushing" can ever make me hope for less - especially about us (even if you don't think that way - well, i do.)

I also told you i like to fill the place with wind-chimes made of shells, bamboos and anything that can breathe out sounds. I love how it saturates the room with its rhythmic melody when the wind kisses its tresses by the window or how it sings when the door swings every time someone comes and leaves. I believe a person's arrival and departure should be taken notice of as a sign of his existence - a reminder that he has been here. Sometimes, memories become so surreal that she starts doubting if they have ever happened, if they have really talked, if they existed or if the conversation was real - like how shooting stars disappear in the sea quicker than the blink of your eyes. You were quiet while i told you these nonsense I was beginning to think i was making you feel bored. It made me think that if ever we were face to face, you'll try to hide every yawn, the itch to stretch your limbs and the urge to turn your other cheek.

I imagine too much - i know.

Then you'll tell me to stop thinking stupid things like you leaving or you finding another prettier girl with 2D breasts (whatever 2D means because 3D is overrated). You said, you don't treat me as an option and i swear if a heart can melt, mine would have evaporated to join the clouds. Yet, i never told you how i felt about those words.

Instead, I told you that i get jealous about you laughing more often with other women and you told me that you laugh the most with me even if my jokes were so overused and nonsense. And i realized how much i needed to hear that to feel better.

The feeling of jealousy was suffocating that it was easier to breathe after.

And I hate your busy days so i try to be busy too and i try to forget you but when i pick the pen, i scribble your name all over the pages of my notebook and i remember the bistro you want to have someday. I listen to my favorite songs and i hear the growling of your metallic music blending with the supposed to be soothing melody of my much preferred choice of music.

You invade the privacy of my thoughts every now and then and I hate how i don't hate it.

I really think it's you who I want to talk with about jealousy, about my stupid dreams, about my love for sweets and how coffee makes me dizzy. And, I want to tell you that I'd love hearing anything about your life even if it's all about flipping pages of Accounting books, watching 2D breasts, smoking and coffee, your bizarre taste of music, your imaginary 8 packs abs and how many times you wrinkled your forehead.

I want you to know I am interested - so interested.