Drabbles

532 // 05

Written: 2021.
Personal

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There are so many ways a story can start, and growing old with someone may be the perfect ending for each – yet, we don't always get the satisfaction of it. Scribbling words on a coarse paper, you could feel the love pouring out of a heart some might deem as pure as rain. And that love never wanes, even when the ink begins to fade and the paper becomes yellow.

I am writing this about you. You and the warmth of your fingertips so close to my own. The ones that decorated my eyes, nose and lips, my hands in the cold and the strings who carry a soul. I fell the same way snow would on the pavement during the late December. And if you ever catch me caressing my own face, let it be known that I am remembering them, even if my fingertips would freeze hell over and over again. Bad circulation.

You and the scar you carry. I know scars carry bad memories, I could tell you about a five hundred stories in a library on my wrists. Thankfully yours isn't mean spirited, it only sits like a flower would in a groom's pocket. Color complexion of a Lilly of the Valley, just a little paler than the rest of your skin. I wonder how many people know about it.

You and the waist that holds you together. You never liked it, always wanting to do better, to change everything you possibly could. I did love it though, holding it, clinging around it like tomorrow would never come. Over the soft fabric, over the daydreams, over anything. Like a sculpture, in my eyes, such as the one of Guillaume.

What was it about you, I couldn't say , because I myself don't know. Maybe it was a puzzle for me to solve, how you had everything I didn't, and I carried everything you could've been. You, and how anything I imagined coming to life crumbled in front of me, piece by piece - gone in thirty seconds.

You and your voice that I have forgotten. The one that made me recognize love, a melody in the early mornings that'd wake me up better than any coffee I'd drink. One that lied and promised, talked and whined – and I have forgotten it. It makes me sad that I did, even if the memory of you resides in my room in two. I wish that you'd ask for them, to have them back at least. Then again, it'd tear me apart to tell you that it's okay.

You and the memories I have left. Tears pattered like the morning dew, laughter that hasn't been the same since and the once colorful view to a world like this. The things you'll never know and the things you think I'll never know.

Ghosts linger in places they've died, so it has never confused me as to why I feel you when it gets lonely. To remind me that no matter what spells and potions I'd learn, it would never resurrect anything. I just hope that a piece of me died with you and that I linger on the living room couch, with a cup of coffee in hand. I hope that you remember me that way.

My eyes might've failed me once, but they continue to look at the big city.

Cause I still look for you.

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No way user dabillicit updated... That's crazy! Hi everyone, I am nooot  back, I just decided that maybe I should publish at least something because,,,, God knows. Anyways I have been busy with college, and better life choices I think? (I don't use social media anymore, my phone has been collecting dust I fear). If I happen to dig up something else I've written or I write something now, I'll try my best to update this here (If I'm not lazy help). Anyways, I hope wattpad doesn't ruin the formatting of this bc I am on my laptop,,,
Hope you folks celebrated all the holidays happily and if holidays aren't your thing, hope you had a wonderful start of the year! Take care of yourselves, drink your water, have nice meals throughout the day and do your best! That's all for now, bye bye!