tokyolovelight
You suddenly become faintly aware of a soothing but persistent melody. It has extricated you from the lull of unconsciousness. Your eyes are shut, but you know, nonetheless, that the sky is still dark.
The melody awakening your consciousness is your alarm ringtone. So you get up from your bed. To set another day in motion.
Every day that passes, every step that you take: are you really getting closer to somewhere?
Don't just go through the motions. This is your life. It brims with promise and possibilities.You can do so much better.
The smile that blazes across my face when I receive your text.
I know: you're just another passer-by in my life who'll stroll out of it again when the time's up.
But if, for even just a minute, we could be friends, at least it'd have been a beautiful minute.
You eat me up like cotton candy when you crave it, until the saccharine taste is about to become cloying.
I’m the shadow that flickers across your mind quietly when you’re alone.
My image pays your heart an ephemeral visit when your heart feels hollow.
I’m the one cursed with a lifetime burden of fighting between hope and desire. Of forgetting myself to forget you.
My heel shudders in its arc as you spin me out across the floor and back into you again.
There’s a smile that hints behind your eyes, but I’m not sure its really there. Perception, illusion, hallucination?
I feel it like the heel of a shoe pushing into my heart.
I’m scared. I feel vulnerable. I’m going to burst into tears any moment. I’m confused.
I pray for your reassurance. You’re the only one who can put me right if you’re the only one who ever blurs the outlines of my identity like this.
The crisp, foreboding tones of the piano play the prelude to the symphony of my discordant emotions.
Here you come again. Here we meet again. My face stiffens; my manner dulls. Then you’re gone, once again, and I feel like I just gouged out a chunk of my heart.
Just another intersection where we met and parted, like strangers.
He was puzzled over her absolute indifference.
Sometimes they'd coincidentally meet at the bus-stop on weekday mornings because they took the same bus to school, but even so she refused to acknowledge him. They'd exchange ephemeral glances that said "Yes I see you and I know you" but return to a relationship as perfect strangers a blink of the eyelids later.
He wondered what it all meant - he wondered what they as one entity meant, exactly. What did this indifference mean? What did everything in the past - Saturday afternoons devoted to one another, sipping at cold saccharine drinks, attempting to unravel each other in conversations about anything and everything; the platypus plushie he'd presented to her on Valentine's Day (he never received anything back from her) - mean?
He wasn't to know that the platypus plushie watched over her drowsing figure every night from its outpost on a corner of her bed. It had a place on the edge of her bed; it quietly occupied that space. Just like how someone had a place on the edge of her heart, a soundproof heart.
He gazed down at the vulnerable, pretty little thing in her arms - the only thing in his power he could do. His eyes, so wide and expressive they'd transfixed many, were now in turn held captive by hers - a slightly smaller pair of bright young eyes that held no residue of age; reflected a hint of his own charm.
A thought danced on the edge of his mind - she was so like a young, impressionistic slab of iron. Would that slab of iron rust away, rust away at his heart with the years to come?
The thought flickered away into the depths of nowhere, and he continued tracing her dear face with his eyes.