Soft gazes,
blind fingertips,
crooked smiles,
crimson cheeks;
cheekbones high with something inexplicable.

Happiness melding with the slow notes of hope, perhaps?

Something ribbons and flits in the air-
it's sweet, bitter but enchanting.  

I'll inhale it infinitely.
∞
Let happy seep into these starved veins.

Fill this empty, empty heart,
please
?

One* day, I hope you know, sweet heart.
That words spoken from your lips to mine were tied by that smile
&
ribboned by wispy threads of memories,

the way you stared at me in off-handed moments;
your eyes
playing peek-a-boo with mine
across a place filled with beating hearts.

Mine was the fastest, that I do know.

That you pulled pieces of my heart apart
slow & soft
like a promise,

then jigsawed it back together.

But surely, it splintered into indecipherable pieces that escapes my hopeful fingertips.

The irony is I don't wish that upon you either.
I hope you do know,
I
really
*do.

"Surely there is more than this."
There is something that hinges on her last word.
Ah, its
hope.
Misplaced, misguided thing.

"The universe is beautiful, yes?"
    She nods slowly.

My hand cups the side of her face, my fingertips lightly brushing her cheekbone.

"You plucked the stars speckling these skies
then dotting it onto
my fingertips,
then my wrists
and
the deepest oblivions in me."

If there is anything more than that.

We
          are all too    selfish    for
our own good.

My lips have been kissed by the white lies
etched on the back of my eyelids.

Even the lulling tendrils sleep cannot blank it out.

I see it every single time the time strikes midnight.
Slowly but surely it mingles into my very fingertips.

Filling the empty space in me.
Which is everywhere.

If I said: " No, I am not cracked, bruised
and
that
my very soul hasn't been diluted by the bittersweet goodbye from your lips to mine.

White lie 1.

When your footsteps walked away, mine wasn't hesitating, cold and lost.

White lie 2.

If I said I didn't pray for rain, so my tears will meet their own.

White lie 3.

And above all,

If I ever say
" I didn't love him with every breath I have taken and will take in this universe that doesn't quite feel that starry and vast anymore."

Sweet heart, that is
white lie
∞
.

I am not sure who I am talking to anymore.

Your voice sounds like a stranger;
someone whose voice was never privy to the corners and edges of my heart.

Certainly, not the kind of voice that wisps the rhapsodic notes for my soul to ****** away with.

I don't even wish to know who I am to you now.

So,
hello
Mister Stranger.

The rueful ache of time
kissing
goodbye
to
our everywhere
is
rather bittersweet.

The kind of burnt-black and acrid taste of burnt toast.
Strange enough,
it is also
the kind of sweet like
honey and brown sugar
dotting
the centre of it.

I am quite sure, no,
I know you love me too.

And if you do walk away; your footsteps whispering good-bye to mine.

Just be careful.

My heart is right there on this dusty pavement.

"One, two... you?"
She pauses.

Eyes wide with meaning and unsaid thoughts.

"That's how in love I am with you."

I hope you know that.

"Oh I knew. I know."
From the first time, you uttered my name and held my hand.
I knew.
I know.
He whispered back.

You see, someone who can make you the happiest.

Can also make you the saddest.

Oh, the irony ****** even the places in my heart that I thought were impervious.