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Brushstrokes of heaven descended painting a picture of you and me. But the Gods have a dark sense of irony, creating a canvass of contradictions, splattering colors and shapes that simply can’t be fitted together.
We are fascinated, all of us, by the implacable otherness of others. You look at me and see darkness. I look at you and see light. Like two moths flying blindly toward the vortex of destruction, we both understand from the beginning that our story was meant to be tragic. And yet we still got ourselves entangle in that complicated web, fighting to stay in while trying desperately to get out.
Others think you’re weak and I’m strong. But I know that I will never have the courage to shed the tears that you have shed. I alone know your weakest moment is equivalent to my point of greatest strength.
And as I begin to lay siege to your heart, the beating of which had begun to fade, I wonder if I posses the courage to see it through. You being your inexplicable self attempt a final assault, one last attempt at serenity. Words collide and frictions form between the space separating you and me, creating silver bullets that pierce the shield guarding our hearts. But this is not a war that will end with victory parades or mournful widows. This war will end with the regret of a thousand memories.
But we are powerless creatures who cannot stop the hand of time and liberate each other from life. And so that winter kiss continues to linger like a painful memory on my lips.. When separation comes, I feel it deep within my bone the fact that I shall never be taken by such a kiss again. For it was a kiss of deep reverence, a kiss that only two people such as you and I can create, mixing both blessing and a curse in one timeless fervent moment.
And finally I understand that…
Love cannot be enough. Which is the truth. The saddest thing of all.
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HydrangeaYou look at the scene in front of you and wonder why did it came to this. You think about the many winding paths that you took, the detours that you made, and the shortcuts that you gambled with. You were so full of hope back then for no one told you that at the end of the road, there’s only heartbreak.
“And are you well?”
You tried to form an answer, except you’re too distracted by the longer fringe across the other’s forehead, by the addition of a soft crease around the left eye, and by the myriads of changes that you were not there to witness. And your heart hurt more at that realization than you expected.
Dusk slowly retreats to give room for darkness and yet you’re still rooted to the same spot. If you close your eyes, you could almost smell the ghostly fragrant of last summer’s blooms. You gaze down at the barren patch of earth and you want to weep for what once was.
You said your goodbyes at the corner where the hydrangea bloomed. It was raining leaves that night due to the sudden gust of wind that came out of the northeast. When you saw all the things that both of you carry on your back to make a living, you couldn’t smile well. Within yourself, you moved towards a spiral of regret.
And the rain started to fall, your homes were in different places but there was only one umbrella. Because you didn’t want to get wet, you said goodbye.
If you turn the corner where the hydrangea bloomed, you will reach the other’s room but that distance is now far away.
Too far away.
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