I Want You To Know That I am Thankful

I want you to know, 

that you are the reason why I even pull myself out of bed instead of the covers over my head. 

That you are the reason why I look forward to the sun rising in anticipation of hearing your voice fill the air, 

and to allow laughter be induced from depths within myself I never knew exist.

I want you to know, that I emphatize.

 That I curse myself for not expanding my circle earlier, 

or perhaps went in search for you with more intent,

 so that perhaps I could have prevented your heartaches, 

or even have been there to offer you my presence.

 Call me egoistic, but I am sure I would have made a difference. 

My thoughts on this remain affirmative as your embraces have made my tears dry up faster, 

kept my being warmer than I ever knew I could be.

I want you to know, that I will hold onto your dreams, 

even if no one else thinks they are plausible. 

I will put them on display them above mine, shine them every so often- 

that when you are ready to adorn them like medals that they are, 

I can remind you of why they even materialized in the first place. 

Always remember, that your dreams- 

even the very simple crux of the idea, holds weight in my heart, 

to keep me down to earth, so you may go beyond this world.

 And especially on the nights where you do not believe in them, or yourself, that I always will- 

simply because you have salvaged mine when I dispose of them every so often.

I want you to know, that you have made me smile and turned things around. 

Whenever I have imagined my reflection, 

it has never been one that made my heart beat faster with excitement and impatience. 

It has been said that the ones you let yourself be around should be the ones you see yourself to become-

 and I can safely announce that you have given me a goal to better myself 

and to remember that there are flowers I have not seen bloom in my garden, 

if only I would listen to your reminders to keep them watered.

I want you to know, that I am grateful. 

I who have been blessed with the words to express, 

have not yet found the words to describe the light you have ignited in my soul 

to allow me to glance around myself, realizing that perhaps, 

there is more to what my options have lead me to. 

And for that, thank you to you.

I have to let you know, however, 

that I am terrible at keeping people around. 

I tend to be clumsier than most and slip back into my somber self too often, 

and I hope you would bother to carry me back up so that you may always be in view, 

so that I may push on with your hands in mine, till I may walk with no aid once again. 

I guess I just wanted you to know, 

that I am thankful for the Universe to forcefully meet you despite my predicament. 

That you have clouded my mind and given my heart with all these maybes, 

which I have ran out of a while ago. 

Thank you for switching all my impossibilities into something possible. 

Thank you for existing. 

Tell me you hear the echoes of your keys as they fall to the table, replacing where my welcoming of you back home used to fill the air.

Tell me you miss my laughter as you speak of your day while lighting a cigarette, and how I insist on hugging you despite you bringing home the day with you.

Tell me you press your lips tight so not to remember how my lips felt against yours after each hello and before each goodbye.

Tell me you feel the wind breezing past your shoulders, where my arms used to hook around your neck while looking into your eyes telling you how lucky I was.

Tell me you stay silent at home, hoping that if you kept quiet long enough, listened hard enough- that you might hear me calling out for you.

Tell me you stare in the mirror while you brush your teeth, so not to see the empty cup that used to hold my toothbrush, or realize how a bathroom could feel so sterile in a home.

Tell me you sigh in bed as you pull back the covers, reaching out where I used to lay facing you, with my smile only you could place on my face.

Tell me you lean your back against the wall as you drift off into the past to mimic where my body used to be as our breaths sync through the night.

Tell me you remember how you begun to understand what a pleasant shock meant when I begun to exist in your life, where kisses placed or hands fumbling to find yours were a common while you slept- for you to awake only to find me creeping closer to you, and to melt back into your dreams with a smile only I could form.

Tell me you rediscovered the unpleasant falls that wake you when you find yourself occupying the entire bed and no one pushing you away for trying to keep yourself warm.

Tell me you now hate the music of birds, and how my shifting doesn't awake you anymore, but how the birds still do, taking up the role of a fire alarm, for you to feel the aftermath of the fire I set in your heart.

Tell me you have begun understanding how the deaf functions as our favorite songs play, and how you never had to concentrate so hard to ignore a sound that used to make your day. 

Tell me you still think of me.

Tell me you still miss me.

Tell me you still love me.

Because I am still here, waiting to tell you all these, all over again.

How I Miss You

How I Miss You 

I awoke to the sound of my alarm ringing and not to your body's warmth as how the sunlight would illuminate the room to welcome another new day with you. 

The bed feels larger than I am still used to, and for the first time, stretching my legs across the bed felt less satisfying than it used to prior to having you in my life. 

The birds are chirping and I can hear the leaking of a tap I have never took notice of. The absence of your voice has left a void with nothing to bounce off the walls except for my thoughts that I avoid having in the mornings. 

As I brush my teeth, my eyes slowly scan through the bathroom, slowly making a list of items that are now in pairs. Toothbrushes, towels, two different bathing gels, two different facial washes.. How ironic that someone walking out of your life completely would leave so many items that triggers playbacks of rose tinted memories. 

It's 9 in the morning and I have no unread messages. A conversation would usually be brewing between us by now as I have my coffee, informing each other of the day's upcoming events and reminders of how much we have missed each other while in midst of slumber. However as the coffee brews this morning, so do my thoughts. I wonder if you have the same difficulty of beginning your day without listing out your tasks to me- my life seems to be in a mess without narrating my plans for the day out to you. 

The rest of the day plays in the foreground with my endless sighs as background music. Everything seems pointless and lacks importance as it used to hold. "I'm going through the motions but I don't feel like trying," I repeat to myself over and over at the end of each seemingly redundant task. Food is bland, and every time something mildly interesting happens- I instinctively think of sharing it with you, but always manage to stop myself in time before allowing unneeded feelings to arise. I absentmindedly reminisce of your smile and imagine your reaction if I had indeed shared a joke with you- a fantasy that will remain as that, and a dull ache strikes a sharp reminder of how I have to move on. I shrug you off my mind for the 54th time of the day and light another cigarette as I head back home early again this week. My schedule had been adjusted around yours and nothing seems worth it to replace time spent with you, for now. 

I order takeout as cooking for one is more effort than it's worth, and as I watch our favourite tv series- the latest episode I had downloaded then for us to watch over our weekly dinners, the void of loneliness overwhelms me as I glance at the empty seat on the couch and for the first time since you had left, I broke down. The crying would not stop and I had begun chiding myself to stop the tears that have now resulted into heavy sobs. I cave and reach for my phone. You are still on my speed dial and when I hear your voice, the realization of how much I had missed you shocks me. I mumble a few "I shouldn't have called" and "I just missed you" and a few more "I'm sorry" and hung up clumsily. I hastily clean up and look forward to ending another dreaded day. I find myself contemplating calling someone to rant about how I miss you, but decided against annoying my friends yet again- they don't need to hear about my problems against theirs. I fill a bag with everything you have left in my house and throw it away. It makes me feel mildly better, shoulders a little lighter. 

And as I tuck myself into bed for yet another night which I suspected will only end in the wee hours of the morning, I do my best to wrap the blanket around my shoulders to mimic your arms, and fail miserably. It's 4 in the morning when I finally find myself drifting into sleep and I make a final quick prayer to no one in particular with desperation laced that maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and begin to let go of you. This is how I miss you. 

This is Enough

This is Enough

I've looked at you from afar many times, wanting more but unsure of what the definition of more was. So the first time you looked back at me across the table over lunch, with those brown eyes of yours; albeit the kindest, softest and purest brown eyes I have ever seen and listening to every word I was speaking with a crooked smile, one which my heart instantly branded into my mind- that was enough.

When you held your hand in mine, I then realized I have never held a hand which had the wear of too many hard days and the softness of too many nights tears has seeped through. How you held on tightly with fingers enveloping mine as if they had always belonged there; and without words spoken assured me with the morse code only my heart can comprehend. Every time my hand latched onto yours, you mirrored my strength as if a clutch in the fastest Aston Martin- my heart; mind; sight was racing through the endless roads of possibilities without a destination in mind. That was enough. 

During the end of our long nights, your weary sighs causes echoes that bounces off the white walls and wrinkles would be engraved around your eyes- consequences the days bring which are as crumpled as the shirts your body wears home. I would ask how your day was and as you narrate another chapter from the book of yesterdays, your aching shoulders fall back into the bed, sinking into my carrier of dreams I have had of you. Despite carrying the world on your shoulders everyday, you would still gesture for me to come closer into your arms; to hold me. That moment of silence, as we both sigh into each other, replicating the perfect formation of ying and yang- that was enough. 

This morning, just before you hurriedly left work, you infused the room with the intoxicating smell of your cologne, which my being now recognizes as your scent. I rolled over, still feeling the warmth of your essence lazily cooling off. When I finally awoke to your messages; of which the tone was the equivalence of birds chirping and leaves rustling during autumn mornings-  I inhaled the sweet effervescent of your exhale and smiled to myself. You had texted what was cowardly dwelling in the back of my mind- the unbelievable admittance of missing me despite the nights spent together just hours prior. I felt a pleasant jolt through my spine, as if love was being infused into my bones, as it had been everyday since the first time you laid your eyes- those beautiful brown eyes on mine. This, this is enough. 

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, 

we shall drown our toes in the never-ending sand with our backs glistening in the sun, casting shadows over the worries of yesterday which will be washed away with the clear waves of forever. 

Tomorrow, 

these echos will stop bouncing off cold walls and we shall be standing tall against these odds, laughter shall replace these years of tears and the gold shall never run dry as we migrate to the end of the rainbow.

Tomorrow, 

we shall dance at night as freely as the flickering candles once burning for the loved ones we have lost. We shall forget yesterday with each beginning of today, looking toward the straight tunnel of one more day. 

Tomorrow.

For it to past by, we need to sleep tonight. For today to be dispersed into air of our dreams, we have to fall asleep. And hopefully, we'll wake up to another tomorrow, everyday.

I'm Beginning to Forget You.