How quickly do I forget that the beauty of space is its menace itself: the void and all the emptiness lurking within. If we were planets I’m no longer sure if we orbit the same line.
I miss you, this I wish to say in a heartbeat, in the reach of a hand hesitant, but I don’t know where to stand in this room where silence is the loudest noise. Overcome by sorrows not mine to hold for it keeps close like a shadow.
Now — will the same gravity that drew us together, draw us apart?
Not all secrets have to be filled with the weight of a drowned corpse, guilt hanging on the leg one cannot shake loose. I am accustomed to keeping sad things secret, but more so for the happy things too.
There’s something about preciousness that cannot be shared with others, lest beauty and wonder is lost. Don’t gain partial ownership or the ability to change it up, let it stay an unbroken memory for the cold days ahead. I am no fool, to leave a gem on the beach for the enchanting ocean to steal.
Call me selfish, and I will perhaps find no heart to deny — for sometimes we hold on so tightly until the insides of our palms make crescent cries. Take a look at what is photographed in quiet, the boundless whispers stalking across the mind. The things to immortalise.
I don’t know about you (if you exist), but for me? With numbers need not be told, I have stood in a place watching, hoping to remember for always.
I am incurably poor in a world that never stops talking. This is how I keep up, seeking solace at the edges though some rooms persist in a cornerless round. Quiet the flutter which arrives like that of a frantic winged creature in a steel cage. Find a plain unsuspecting wall for the mind to draw shapes on.
Yet for you, why — I will make sure that this limited change lasts.
Is it preposterous that I am in want to protect you?
More so when it is only recent that I have come to know you. Somehow, slowly through moments miniscule, you have become unexpectedly dear to me. From the impulsive lending of the cap to asking if I’m doing okay, there are various sides to your easily won smile. The little things you do, showing that you care. Leaning forward, running to offer aid.
Came to me in the night you did, and I am grateful. Showing me a shadow that might cause alarm and distress, but it only made me want to hold you closer. Give me time, let me gather much armour, sword and shield to keep these disturbances away. Bring with us a light that never ends.
Sitting by the table just there, I cannot help but to watch you. Note the seldom serious look and the handsome haircut. Your hands, they relax on the surface before the next conversation gets them into expressive gestures. Quietly laugh.
Yes, perhaps it is preposterous to yearn protecting you. Though you stand tall and seemingly immovable, this is what you have done. Have me drawing one step closer.
The best stories happen in the midst of rain. Rain became a cliché overused, but these things come about for a reason.
Water droplets, they ran over everything. Steel railings, metallic floors, soaked soles. Looked up and saw unending grey clouds, the goal of reaching the parking lot feeling a tad too far. There was water enough to drown the city.
Despite being clad thinly, run I was surely going to as there was no other option. Mental countdown, when a voice interrupted it.
“Don’t,” he said.
Thus met a confused one with an amused boy. Pulled up an umbrella, mighty weapon against the inclement weather.
“Let’s go,” his smile whispered. Stray words found their way, yet we knew not of each other’s identity. He vanished afterward, never to be seen again.
Little people have lives larger than their bodies can contain.
That warm glow, a space not many can hold for long. A smile that varies, expression evident at every turn of the clock.
Small is powerful, they claim, and I say it’s true still. Just a tiny fist having it raised commands much attention. This one curled by the bedside is a sight sweeter than one can expect in the dark of night. When reasoned with, tears will move even the stoniest of hearts.
Little people with a touch of magic, I hope you grow up knowing there’s more than games to play all day long. Be it pain or joy, each moment will carve the shadows sewed to the bottom of feet at eventide. This be the unspoken question feared: will the hand holding the older’s fade away, or clutch tighter?
We already know: energy bundled within is never destroyed or lost, but merely transformed. And so, where will your spark go forth in this vast world?
Yet hush now, despite these musings it’s time to sleep, wide-eyed child.