Coffee, Books and Everything else

When the time comes for my final words poured onto the last page of my journal, will I lose my soul in all the verses that I’ve weaved and composed? Will I be forgotten when my words turn into dust and finally become one with the night? Will you remember me as the girl that you once easily loved, and how my words and poetry only tells stories of you and us? In another lifetime if we meet again, would you finally remember how I have fallen from the stars just to search for you? // maybe it's just December's air - or maybe it is just me who can't seem to forget you for long.

  In English we say: ‘Anxiety.’ But when I write about it, I say: I don’t know what is this shadow trying to tell me, for it is always in every corner, always next to me wherever I go, or whenever I try to sleep. Maybe I should start asking it – “What are you so insisting to protect me from?”

 After all - what are we? Other than a wanderer Drinking griefs on the rocks Feasting on toasts of sadness Forever wishing For a happy home A pleasant sight From outside the window All the love and warmth Across our lonely street.

December almost matured, and you are not 18 anymore; you haven't been one for a long time. When you were 18, you used to think, it’s okay to be confused and it’s okay if you couldn’t figure things out. You have time, you will do better when you are older.  Still, when did we changed? From making plans and circling the places on the map that we wanted to visit - to this? To this life of commuting to the nine-to-six works, adding gold in our coffer but giving less and less breath to our souls? When did we grow up? When did we decided to let go of all the dreams our younger self had carefully written in their journals? Can you pinpoint to the time of when did you let your youth started to waste away?

And when I told you that I still love you, even after hundreds of seasons has come and gone, I meant that I still mourn the end of you and me – and that nothing I do could ever closed the hollowness that you left in my heart.

  One of the things that scared me the most after he left, was that I would one day forget the sound of his voice. And that voice, teeming with warm sweetness and love when he uttered my name, could only be his and his only. No matter how expertly a recording captured his voice, nothing could ever imitate him. Some nights, I jarred up from sleep, sweating and crying for the thoughts of forgetting him. Some days, I waddled through the past conversations and resurrect the memories. I was the girl who fell in love and being loved back. He was the boy who thought that he was too broken, too damaged for me. Yet, when our souls touched, the earth trembled, the skies on fire, the stars danced, and the moon shone the brightest. I was shattered into a thousand tiny stardust of words. His love has set me free.