drowning in joy, feeling high while I'm drifting below
I want more of this joy 'til my cheeks turn all flushed and the flesh felt by hands,
felt by hearts becomes pounding in red
while the scent of something fresh and warm lingers on
11pm, one wednesday in the twelfth month, you were at my door. Standing there in the black sweat shirt, my favorite of you, and I could feel you feeling nervous. My hand was shaking the moment you handed me the grey envelop.
I don't know when it started or when it ended. From the coffee at the vietnamese to the tea at the treehouse, and all the midnight rides in between. From the day you said you like me to the day you said you're getting married, and all the stories we shared in between. From the moment you said you want to hold my hand to the moment I finally said I wanna hold yours, and all the regretted resistance in between.
Now what's left on me is a grey envelop, a proof that you were once existed, a fantasy that were once there, running parallel with my reality. A muse, an escape, a good feeling, a forgotten memory.
