He always wanted to be somewhere else,
and she just wanted to be his home.
He wanted to take flight
while she wanted to grow roots.

And all this time
they'll have you thinking they could never be.

But in the middle of it all,
the sky found sea.

He realized
anywhere in the world with her
is home,

and she realized
roots can grow wings too.

I have very sensitive hands
because I just touched our
specimen without gloves and
my fingers are now very wrinkled
due to the formalin
and looking at it,
I was thinking if you would
still hold it even though
it's not smooth and soft anymore,
because in my chosen field,
preserved and fresh specimen
will always be present and it
will always be asked to examine,
even dissect, so my exposure to
chemicals are inevitable that
sometimes, even gloves cannot
provide protection.

Will you still hold my hand
even if it's wrinkly and rough,
even if it wasn't the same,

*even if I'm not the same?

at the end of the
day, all i have is hope and
willingness to try

I'm at an intersection with a stoplight stuck on yellow,
And it's fine since I still don't know where to go.
A right turn may lead me back to you,
A left, maybe to a somewhere, someone new.

But none of that matters now.
I'm on still yellow.
I'm still here but not really,
lingering, but not entirely.

Right now I'm asking myself if leaving is really the answer?
Asking myself is it still a worth a shot staying together?
What is it that's holding me back?
was this an unsolvable problem or just bad luck?

I don't have the answers but that's alright,
It's still yellow on the stoplight.
Giving me plenty of time alone to think,
to reflect if to sail or to sink.

It will turn green soon and I think I know,
That straight ahead is the way to go.
Down this road, looks like it will be just me,
And it's fine to just let it be.

I was trying to ignore you,
to make you realize that
I'm still jealous you like someone new,
but you sat next to me
and you talked to me
and I can't help myself but
talk all the stress away
and despite it being night
and me nagging and complaining,
you said this is the first time
you have really seen my face
and you fell deeper.

You have no idea how much
I wanted to hold your hand,
how much I wanted that ride
to go on forever.

You remind me of  mountains,
the kind of scenery
people tell stories about.

You remind me of rivers,
shallow when you're above,
but the moment you step and walk,
it suddenly deepens.

You remind me of bicycles,
the thing that needs falling
before learning.
The thing you can never forget.

You remind me of my old favorite song,
a part of you is always familiar.

You remind me of a lot of things.

I wonder if I remind you of something.
Is it a good thing?
a good memory?

I hope so.

I miss you.

When things fell apart,
I thought I was left alone
to pick up the pieces.

I was so overwhelmed
by the shards and cuts
in my hands that I forgot
to look around.

I screamed out of frustration
and I was surprised to see
you running towards me,
covered in soot and all.

That's when I realized that
you never left and that
you really care,

I realized that you have
your own pieces to pick,
own mess to clean, but
despite all that, you
came running after
my first call.

Thank you.

I looked at your eyes when
you saw me for the first time
after the longest time
and it has this sparkle
I've never seen before.

Maybe I never looked at you hard enough,
or maybe you were as surprised as I am
or maybe that's what happens
when you miss someone so much,
when you see them, a flame ignites within you.

Whatever the reason is,
I'm glad I saw you.
I'm glad you held my hand.
I'm glad we talked.
I'm glad you walked me home.
I'm glad I met you.

I hope you too.

I hope this is not the last.