I remember the first time I saw an angel. It was night, and I was wishing on a falling star.
Those are the times that my heart still beats the rhythm of myths and dragons, of fairies and fairytales, and of angels and fallen stars. My heart is still so young and naïve then that I would believe I could fly and grow wings out of my back if someone would tell me so.
He kissed my tears away while my eyes are closed as I wished upon a falling star.
“Be brave,” he whispered. His lips grazed lightly on my forehead, and I heard the first stirrings of my innocent heart.
I caught a glimpse of him before he completely vanished into thin air.
I love the way you smile
The way your face seems to light up,
Whenever I see you.
I love the way your hands
Enclosed on my wrist last night.
But I like you better before
Those unassuming angel’s eyes
And innocent smiles.
Or have you change already?
The way I must have change
In just a year without you.
You complained about her
And for a moment I feel glad,
I heard you broke up with her
But I doubt you really have the guts.
In any case,
I’m not going back there
I’m not going back with you
And spent many sleepless nights
Again thinking of you.
It isn’t about you or him
Or about her
It isn’t even about God
Or how you seem to be there
Just when everything feels right.
I’m not all right.
I’m not yet all alright.
You must have known that
Since you pretty much know everything
On when to turn up
And when to disappear.
Or is it only when
I connect to the source?
In which case,
Are you the serpent
I should avoid
Or an angel
I should hold?
By the way
Your voice has change
I do not recognize it anymore.
I like you better before
So let’s keep it that way.
So this is how it feels like
To see you again
To see the sudden flash of recognition from your face
You, standing across the opposite train
And I, seated comfortably on the other side.
We must have looked like
The actors in Hollywood movies,
The kind that ends in happily-ever-after
Only ours, never even start
I wanted to convince myself
That my innocent heart raced
Like in the past, upon seeing you
But to my surprise and dismay,
None of that happened.
You stared at me and I glanced at you
Briefly, with me
Never wanting to look
On your way again, for a second time
Not this time.
Don’t mistake me, for
It isn’t pride, or shyness,
Not even an attempt to flirt in subtlety
Instead, it is
Just as it is.
Now I know,
Maybe, just maybe
That this time, I understand
That this is how it feels like
To be the one who walks away.
You will hear me at the lull
Of every small talk that goes awkward
You will hear me at the footsteps
Of your loved ones who walks away
You will hear me in every sigh
Of your desperate hopeless need
You will hear me in your sudden
Quickening of heartbeats
You will hear me in your wail
When prayers aren’t seem enough
Afterwards, you will hear me in the calmness
That follows every after storm.
I am your sadness, I am your despair
I am your joy, I am your laughter
I am the unsung song you cradle close to your heart.
She stands at the edge of a worn out building
Little people and cars that seem like toys litter below.
She tried to remember the events that led her to this
Yet all she could think was how warm she felt when his arms were around her.
She takes a deep breath and the icy air fills her lungs.
She curls her freezing hands into fists to stop it from shaking.
The wind blows and urges her forward.
For a millionth time, her eyes betray her with tears that won’t stop flowing.
I can do this, she says over and over in her head.
She gazes at the sky and the chirping birds above
And wishes a silent deal to the one beyond.
One step and another
She takes the plunge into the unknown.
She was lying on the bed—as how she spend most of her days after the funeral—and looking at the ceiling, and she felt so emotionally numbed that she could not shed a teardrop anymore nor feel anything that even her breathing seemed so distant to her. And the air in the room was so still and so cold and she could only hear silence, pure silence, not even a bark of a dog or a car passing by or a ticking of the clock. Her mind was also as still as the air in her room, and there was not a single thought that came to her even if she tried to think.
After shrinking it:
Since the funeral, she spent most of her days on bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling lost and numbed. She could not cry nor think anymore as her mind was as still as her room filled with silence and cold air.
There! So from 115 words, I’d reduced it to 41 words. I don’t know if it get’s better or what, but it’s a fun challenge!
P.S. While writing this post, I’d noticed that I’m censoring and simplifying my choice of words. So far, this seems to be my smallest entry. 🙂