[2:05a.m.]

reality hits you. no, it kisses you a good night. but you can not forget it.

it can not leave your head-- the way he held your hand, or rather the way you grasped onto his;

the way you tried to speak but panicked, or rather the way your mind figured out a thousand ways to freeze that moment in time;

the way he looked at you, or rather, the way his look was just like any other look he gave to the previous and to the next.

it was inevitable. you knew this day would come. you would thank him with no words but just that grasp on his hand, that he made you realize that you have learned to love and can love a person this much. you know you will continue to love him, but not in the same way, and he definitely won't be the person you will love as much as right now.

and the time has finally concluded: he isn't the one for you.

to rendezvous, has finally come
she stares ahead, he softly hums
discreetly awaiting the moment
their eyes lock upon each other
the same goes for their hands
he reaches out to her again,
but this time in the flesh
she responds to him
and their heartbeats match
now two separate dreams
have merged into
one fulfilled reality
what used to be him and her,
is now them

she responds in words as well
not in any beat but of the heart's,
she knows he can feel her,
no matter how far apart
she hears his voice in the sun
she feels his fingers in the sea
he's closing in on her
it's his, she longs to be

he's calling out to her
through words with melody
capturing her heart
and all her entity
his hand skim the strings
his voice, soft like clouds
imagining he's caressing her
it's she, whom he surrounds

To you, who has seen him in person:

How did he look like? Was his skin smooth and white as milk; or was it a golden glow bestowed upon him? Did you see the humanistic details known as blemishes or beauty marks which usually get edited out in pictures? Was he the type of person to hold your gaze as he held your hands? Or did he look away after a few seconds? Did you see the mirth that sparkled in his glassy orbs? Did you see the smiles of other people being contained in them, that now he carries an eye smile wherever he goes? Did your eyes keep his gaze, afraid that it would break the staring spell? What of his hands, were they as warm as his eyes, or vice versa? Were they soft like a light feather, or coarse with experience of the harsh outside world? Did your eyes trace the veins that led up to his arms? They're beautiful, aren't they? How those threads of blue, green and red twisted playfully under his skin, giving him the blood to see you. How about his cheeks, did they lift; did he laugh? Did his laughter sound like little bells ringing, or a little stream through a dry desert; it was so refreshing, wasn't it? Did he even smile to the point where his eyes crinkled, forehead wrinkled, and you saw both rows of his teeth? Was his voice deep? Was it too deep that you fell deeper as well, in love? Or was it a smooth one, rich in emotion, or did you hear the innocence in his soul as he gently spoke? Was he relaxed; were his shoulders and breathing calm? Was his hair nearly as disheveled as yours? Was he perspiring from the heat or from the jitters and tension? I bet you couldn't keep calm, and you nearly hyperventilated just from sharing the same air with him. Maybe he made you less nervous with cheesy pickup lines, when you yourself planned to say it to him, in hopes of getting stuck in his head with your jokes or puns. Maybe his grip was too light on your fingers, and you felt him lose his grip and slip away-- you might have held your whole world in your hand but he only held a tiny part of his. Like how he easily walked past you with a quick acknowledging glance, one that's no special from the glances he gave to others. And you wonder if you'll appear in their minds right before they sleep, or even appear in their dreams.

Even i wonder if i can ever cross his mind as nostalgia when he sees, hears or touches something. Or if I'll be able to meet him even if it's just in our dreams, and we wake up at the same time because of it. Sometimes I fear it when the day arrives to see him; i fear the day when i finally see the look in his eyes, as if he's just staring at no one. I fear the day to hold his hand, knowing his grip wouldn't be as intense as mine. I fear the day to realize he didn't and would never feel the same way. But darling, i look forward to seeing him, because he needs to know at least that he is loved. And that thought alone comforts me.

So right now, just looking at you, my dear, is more than enough. Just having you look me in the eyes, is more than enough. Because i believe and feel his eyes which once stared at yours, are staring back at me too.

From me, who loves him

as much as i tried
to dream of the bad things,
i only dreamed of you,
which was good.

but then again,
maybe you were
actually bad.

of all the lives i could have lived,
i am glad i happen
to be in the same lifetime as yours.

but again here comes the world,
with all its silly ironies—
its vastness that sets people apart
miles and miles;
our paths crossing
is quite out of the picture.

i know this.
you don't.
i think of you.
you don't.

but why do i keep waiting for you
as if i'd suddenly find you outside,
standing by my door
and waiting for me too?

FALLING IN LOVE* is only for the
HEARTBROKEN
because they need someone to CATCH them
and PUT THEIR BROKEN PIECES TOGETHER

i, for one, jump and risk.
to get into it myself, and out of it MYSELF...

i can do this myself. *i will be okay myself.

Scatter the glitters
onto the velvet sky;
I'll pull it over me
like a blanket,
Kiss in patterns
of a soft good night;
Willingly,
I'll embrace it.
Knowing your hands
made it to keep me
warm and safe;
Dreaming of you,
the Night-Quilt Maker,
to whom, my love I gave.