I wrote. Well, if I may say I do write sometimes. Sometimes like these, in particular when I find you wondering around in my head like a little squirrel between tree branches. I believe I put you somewhere in there, perhaps in the right side of my brain, where all the art is.

You see, I may have become such a bitter person. Believing isn't always an easy task. As well as staying up and growing strong. ***** aside, I'm not a good person after all. Yet there you are, single handedly ruin my walls down to the very bricks. I should be boiling furious right now, but your stupid smirk must have some sort of spell.

Words may define you less than my touch. But I will try my best. Nothing as close  as impossible as pointlessly trying to make you at least understand the urge I have toward you. While you standing there cluelessly, I'm just a long breath away from literally attacking your hair with my lips down at yours and I'm not even joking.

The worst part of believing is it's indescribable, blind most of the time. I say, to have faith is like having a double bladed dagger in your hands. You can hold it wrongly, you can hold it to tight, it can hurt you as much as it can protect you, it can be a weapon or it can be a life saver.

At nights like these with a hard drizzle, I try to write. To solemnly attempting to ease up a bit of that stabbing pain of missing the warmth of your arms around my waist. The sounds creep up on me. As one after another drop of rain brings the memories of that day when we kisses. My heart never beat as calmly, out of my prediction. While yours just, like a synchronize classical orchestra. Just, breath taking. I guess my heart always remind me how to live, but never how to love.

And it was just telling me, to love is to slowly letting your guards down. Because now, you aren't fighting alone.

And then we kissed.

I guess it is almost  like how they make those coins appeared from the back of your ears, magic.