A crisp spring morning.
The air, it whispered a silent, ‘laze today..’ to me.
I thought I felt your hand on my waist.
I thought I smelled that familiar scent of your morning breath.
I thought I opened my eyes to find your face close to mine.
And I knew that it’ll be one of those mornings, where my insistence for your ‘five more minutes’ would not be unnecessary.
I knew that it’ll be one of those mornings where I could stay in bed, watching your chest rise and fall while you slept in your ever so exaggerated sleeping pose.
And I knew how all these indulgences won’t be interrupted by the hustle of the day.
It was a crisp spring morning.
The air, the room and the world, they screamed a loud, yet silent, ‘you’.
and i knew i shouldn’t have existed.
and i knew i should’ve been that one on the bike instead.
and i knew i should’ve died when it crashed.
why didn’t i?
and now, we’re all broken into pieces.
there are pieces that bleed and mourn. pieces that bleed and moved.
and yet my pieces are found bleeding and waiting. waiting.
Seeing those familiar creases at the corner of your eyes.
Hearing the comfortable sound of your laughter.
Suddenly, ‘missing you‘ is brought to a whole new level.
And for one moment, I am definitely a lucky soul.
Hello Mr Robot.
It’s been a while, but I miss the mornings and the nights, when faithful you would always be around.
I remember how you were treasured. How you would be carefully placed and how your support would always bring comfort.
And I miss you. And you.
You were in them, the mornings and the nights.
Then and now, you would always be, in my mornings and my nights.
‘…and that will come soon.’
It feels scary and real. That ‘soon‘ is suddenly too soon. And suddenly the pounding I hear in my ear as it presses itself against the pillow sounded precious; so is the coarse sound of my breathing. It feels strange, feeling your own impending expiry. But more scary than strange.
And I think of you. Of the mornings and the nights. Of the playful mess and the fights. And I miss you; have never stopped missing you.
Maybe it’s another false alarm. Maybe it’s not. Either way, I’m scared. I’m scared today.
Will this be a sign for a fatality to come?
Be fatal, if there is a next time.
Take me home. Take me away.
So that, maybe, from the realm of the dead, I’d glimpse your familiar smile again.
Please, please, die already. Please.
Because to die, is probably more alive than living now.
Your heart, I’m sorry.
No excuses. Because I am the wrong.
When soon becomes now, what would you do?
I sat around, watching.
Those nights that saw you immersed in work.
And those mornings that awoken me beside you.
Magic, maybe, because it felt like it.
Magic, maybe, because you were in it.
As stupid as it might seem,
I’d wish upon the stars and the sun and the mountains and the seas.
To look over you.
To look after you.
When the moon smiles weakly at me, I’d pray.
For you to stay sane.
That maybe, you’d be safe.
So as stupid it might seem, then stupid I will be.
The walls reverberate with the piercing silence.
The markets and the coffee and the food and the world grow cold.
Because all are monochrome.
The winds break that silence.
The stars and the moon and the bats, they sing me colourful lullabies of you.
But the world, oh, my world, it remains colourless, singing without you.
At the last breath, will one remember the words of Meggie Royer?
Will I see your face and hear your voice?
Will the pain overtake the ache that plagued my heart for the past months?
Will missing finally cease?
When a colourful world fades into monochrome except for one.
To be like books and pages, except I can’t.
And you asked, ‘why?‘; I asked, ‘why?’.
But the voice in me asks, ‘why not?’.
In the face of termination, will one feel fear?
If I were to lie and convince myself, can I evade pain?
A plan is hatching; the time is nigh.
Surely, I will succeed. Surely, you will arrive.
Because you are on my mind, all the time.