Friday, July 20, 2012


I think the moment I knew I had feelings for you, it was an irrevocable love. I was young, but this love has matured with me and instead of starving it and cutting it loose, it was constantly fed by every daydream I had of you (I still have those by the way. Through everything, I end up with you in the end). And I think of how we were and it was silly and brief and since I let you go, I can’t help but plot every other scenario that could have, that should have, happened. We hardly talk but that doesn’t matter. Because you’re like that ink stain on the thigh of my jeans. You’re like every stain. A stain that I want to lift to my lips and inhale, to catch little fragments of, long after you’re gone. I’d scratch my fingertips raw to catch you under my nails. And then there’s your nails and how you bite them and how you wish you didn’t but I think it’s as endearing as your fake giggle. God. You’re so beautiful, it aches me to look at you. But I can’t stop because I’m sucker for you. I have to remind myself not to stare and to never let my hand linger on any part of you longer than it should (which is like trying to prevent my face from getting wet when all I want is to taste the rain). Even when my life was consumed with [her] and she was everything I wanted, I’d still see a future with you. The only future that has ever made sense. Like I met you at the wrong time (God, that sounds so cliché) and I apologise for knowing you now and not when the time is right. But I’m not sorry that I know you because I love you irrevocably and as far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters. And I’ll probably spend the rest of my life, wandering around just as hopeless as I am now, believing that love is all you need. And in the back of my mind I’ll know I’m right because…well…to me, you’re my love, baby.