Day 29: Hung Over

Vertigo thoughts are inside my head
It's your voice I hear slithering within my skull
You're just somebody that I used to know
But you were my first
Like alcohol that won't vomit out of my system
I am still hung over you
And the promises that you didn't keep
Deep inside me, I'm missing something that you took
You left me with a profound sense of loss
I thought I found inner peace
But I am always thinking of you
What am I supposed to do when I'm afraid to love?
Every empty night is a hang over of yesterday
Of deleted messages, erased photographs
I was supposed to be over you
You were merely a season, a reason
But not for life

Day 21: Holding Hands in the Rain

Note: Sorry for the late post! I had a lot going on this weekend.

We held hands in the rain while trying to stay desperately dry underneath your umbrella. In the distance, the harbour bridge lights up rainbows. The queue moved suddenly but slowly. I jabbed your rib every time you said that we were finally moving because every time you spoke, the queue stopped again.

We held hands in the rain as we waited for the concert gates to open. Every time the queue suddenly moved and stopped, I thought that the girl in front of me would poke my eyes out with her umbrella. Everyone was so jammed together, afraid that the concert would start without them.

We held hands in the rain as we strolled through the harbour with hot chocolate lingering on our tongues. Skipping puddles, we shared shivers of the first official winter night, our fluttering breaths disapparating in the air. We couldn't imagine how cold the rest of Winter would get.

We held hands in the rain because you said, "Don't let go." You wanted a change in our relationship. I wanted a transition. And we continued to hold hands because you adapted to my pace. Our footsteps echoed through the streets as we stepped into your car, finally driving home after a concert that left our hearts beating hard.

Day 17: Letter of Farewell

These are the words I would have said at your funeral if I had attended. If only I had known. You were a good man. My memory of you will always be of you struggling to get up from your seat in your old age to welcome me into your home. A warm second home.

Rest in peace, up there in heaven. Where surely that is where you are now. I promise I will look after the boys. My brother and your grandson because they're both my brothers. I will make sure that they grow up to become good proper men. To make sure they don't follow the wrong crowds, don't lose their way but if they do, I'll be there to guide them back onto the right path to a good and moral life. I promise to be there in your place. I will love both the boys.

These are my words to you.

Day 16: Not Yet

You will be the end of my reason

But I won't admit it yet

Day 3: Wishy Washy

Those feelings don't have to be anything other than what I want them to be.
But I have yet to know what I truly want.
You like me but I've yet to decide if that's a good or bad thing.
I hate to be this wishy washy,
not knowing where we stand.
And I'm the one who placed us there, on that thin line.
I can feel you easing closer into my cracks
and I'm letting myself open up to you.
Even though I don't know you yet.

Not Afraid

Screams bounce off the tilted paintings on the walls.
Fingers jab hurtful words at hurting chests.
Faults and blames counter each other's assault.
But somehow it's always her fault.
She said, "I'm not afraid of your anger."

Broken trusts slices at broken hearts.
Voices stomp on fragmented tears.
Slurred cussing followed home again.
It's her fault that he had a bad day.
She said, "I'm not afraid of your blame."

Mornings wake to yesterday's forgotten.
It didn't happen.
Words washed away like chipped cutlery.
Yet the red in her eyes, the sobs in her throat: still there.
She said, "I'm not afraid of your mood swings."

Clothes thrown askew on the front lawn.
Suitcase half packed, half demolished.
Tired of his violence, tired of the cycle.
He doesn't deserve her home, doors locked.
She said, "I'm not afraid of you."

Sanctuary: Final

I watch from the window as students file through our gates that are usually only open on weekends. The Gentlemen’s school of Sports. Their red and black blazers stand out amongst our grey and blue. The football team should be arriving soon.

‘Miss Bernard, how is the book shelving going?’

Monsieur Lambert calls out from the entrance of the library. I took on the position of part-time library assistant partly for the extra cash and partly as a means to practise my telekinesis. Organising the library is so much easier when I don’t have to carry the books myself.

‘It’s going well. I’ll be done soon.’

‘Good then I can trust you to lock up the door?’

Monsieur Lambert materialises in front of me. A clone. He likes to send his clones on errands while he locks himself in his office studying genetic mutations. I smile at the clone while the World encyclopaedia volume 1 to 25 floats over his head to the top shelf.

‘Of course Monsieur Lambert. Have a good night.’

‘Good night Miss Bernard.’

The clone disappears with a poof, leaving me behind as always an odd feeling as though I was talking to myself.

‘You’re the only one in the library again?’

Noah leans on the corner of a desk. He’s wearing the jersey jacket he always wears before a match. The one I bought him last year when he joined the football team. He calls it his good luck charm.

‘I’m just finishing up. Why aren’t you down at the lockers getting ready?’

‘I just want a good luck hug before the game. I won’t see you until half-time.’

I smile at Noah. Sometimes, he’s like a child or a puppy. Always wanting to be spoiled. I levitate the last batch of books onto the shelf. Done. Noah grins as he opens his arms wide, welcoming me. I slide my arms around his neck and he hugs me tight. I sigh into his shoulder. He’s always warm like a thick blanket on a winter night.

Noah lets me go as we hear the squeak of the door opening. Someone is here. I glance at him in surprise. There shouldn’t be anyone. Monsieur Lambert’s clone should have put up the close sign. We hide behind the shelf and listen.

‘Are you sure no one is here in the library?’

‘Absolutely. Everyone’s down at the oval.’

‘The football game is probably the most exciting event for this school. Blanchefleur’s school for the gift. They’re all boring nerds.’

I grip Noah’s arm. Samuel? I recognise his voice. What’s going on? Why is he here? We hear struggling and a muffled strained voice. A fourth person.

‘Please let me go. The game will be starting soon.’

‘Awwww, its okay Pretty. We won’t be late for your precious game.’

‘Who should do her first?’

Shit. Isabelle. This does not sound good. An ugly feeling is bottling up from my stomach. I think I’m going to throw up. This cannot be happening. Noah holds me down. He whispers into my ear.

‘If things get worse, we’ll strike.’

I nod my head. Rule one: never use our gifts on those ungifted. Unless for self-defence. This situation clearly calls for our gifts. I nudge Noah. We need to get closer for a better look. We drop to the ground and crawl behind another shelf. I can see boys in red and black blazers surrounding a table. Isabelle is tied up, lying on the table, struggling to get up.

I watch in horror as the boys tear the buttons of her blouse and try to pull off her skirt. Samuel is standing by a shelf, laughing. Enjoying this disgusting scene. Isabelle’s cries rings in my ears. That’s it. No more.

‘Stop right there!’

‘Shit! Chloe? This isn't what it looks like.’

Samuel rushes over to me. He reaches for my arm. Bile clogs up my throat. I can’t believe him. Not what it looks like? It’s exactly how it looks like. I clench my fists. Anger fills my veins. I trusted him! I grab onto Samuel and knock him onto tables.

‘I trusted you! But how dare you hurt Isabelle!’

I glare at the other boys. I lift them into the air. I tighten my fists. The boys grasps their necks, trying to breathe through the invisible force that’s strangling them. Disgusting roaches. Lower than scum. I fling them onto the ceiling. And crash them to the ground. Ceiling. Ground. Ceiling. Ground.

‘Chloe, that’s enough!’

Noah holds onto me. I hear Isabelle crying from the table. Oh God. What did I do? I peek at the boys from Noah’s shoulder. Their bodies lie with limbs at twisted angles. Samuel crawls out from the crumble of tables. He looks at me scared.

‘What are you? You’re a monster. . .’

Noah releases me and leaps onto Samuel. I hear a loud crack as his fist breaks Samuel’s jaw. Noah points at me angrily.

‘Never ever call her a monster! You were the one trying to rape a defenceless girl!’

Noah cracks his knuckle and his neck. He smirks devilishly. Oh God. I know that grin. ‘If you ever step foot onto this school again… well I have to hurt you.’ Noah’s takes off his jacket. His voice deepens. His clothes rip as he transforms. Steel muscles. Metal encrusted body. His head hits the ceiling. He towers over the quivering Samuel.

‘Do I make myself clear?’

‘Very. . . clear.’

Noah transforms back and unties Isabelle. I cover her with my blazer as she heals the boys. She’s not a fighter but a healer that’s why she was vulnerable. Once their bones were regrettably healed, I transported the boys into Madame Blanchefleur’s office. She will wipe their memories.

We fetched Ivan to take Isabelle back to her room to rest. Noah and I stayed at the library. He sits with me as I cry into his chest. He pats my hair.

‘Shhhhh, you’re not a monster Chloe.’

I search Noah’s eyes. He smiles at me. He always looks at me with a gentle gaze. Never changing. He’s someone I can trust to always stay by my side. I bury my head into his warmth.

‘Really?’

Noah kisses me and squeezes me tight. The sound of the football game starting seeps through the windows as night finally comes.

‘Silly girl. If you’re a monster then we can be a pair of monsters together.’

Sanctuary: Part One

Note:Dream inspired and apparently my dream was based on X-men.

- - - - - - - - - 

We’re playing thumb war under the desk like children. Madame Blanchefleur strides through the rows of tables, her crisp brown eyes sweep pass us, a warning. Behave. I giggle as Noah’s fingers tickle my palm. ‘We’ve been caught.’ I whisper. Noah grins back at me, ‘It’s okay. I’ll protect you.’

‘Chloe Bernard and Noah Theodore, did you not hear me clearly?’

‘Yes, Madame Blanchefleur.’ We chorus. Madame Blanchefleur is caring but very strict. There are rules that we must always obey and there’s a reason for that.

‘And what is the number one rule we must always follow, Miss Bernard?’

I stand up straight, my arms held behind my back. As the student president, I must be a leading example for the other students. I speak in a clear voice, to remind even the one or two students sleeping in the back row, the rule we must never forget.

‘Number one: we cannot ever use our gifts on those ungifted. Unless for self-defence.’

‘Good. Mr Theodore, what is rule number two?’

I glance to my side. Noah is always beside me as the vice-president. We’ve always been protecting each other ever since we met on the streets as children. There are only three rules in this school. It’s easy to recite but hard to remember when we leave the safety net of the school gates.

‘Number two: Our gifts are from God, they are a privilege not a right. So we must have discipline.’

‘Good. Both of you may sit.’

We sit down and smile at each other in relief. Our positions in the student council are safe once again. Our eyes turn to the front as Madame Blanchefleur continues speaking. Her voice is clear and warm. A voice that demands respect.

‘Rule number three: The true identity of this school must remain a secret.’

Everyone in class reply as one voice. The last rule is a given. If the school’s secret is found out by the public, our safety would be jeopardised. We don’t want to give up our peaceful days. We don’t want to return to those days of living on the streets. Our own parents feared and abandoned us. Madame Blanchefleur is our mentor and saviour.

‘Now, as everyone must know by now, we have a football match with The Gentlemen’s school of Sports tomorrow night. Please always remember the school rules and play fairly for a fun and safe game. Class dismissed.’

We walk to the courtyard for lunch. Isabelle and Ivan are already sitting under our tree. Noah smirks as we drop our bags onto the grass. He eyes the others slyly, ‘Hey, have you heard? We’re playing against The Gentlemen’s school of Sports tomorrow.’

Isabelle and Ivan grin back. Noah nudges my arm and purrs into my ear, ‘Looking forward to seeing your boyfriend?’ I giggle as I push him away. We live in a boarding school and are only allowed out off the school grounds on weekends. Only those in the student council are allowed afternoon trips to town to run errands or buy supplies.

Noah pats me on the head and ruffles my hair. I unpack the containers of packed food I cooked for lunch. Cooking for a group is easy for me. I’m very skilled with multi-tasking. Noah and Ivan lunge for the food. I levitate the food into the air, out of their reach. The boys pout dejectedly. I roll my eyes and Isabelle laughs. Boys will always be boys.

‘Now now, boys. Ladies first.’

As soon as Isabelle and I grab our lunch boxes, the boys are shovelling down food. Ivan manages to talk after swallowing a mouthful, ‘Now Chloe, even if he’s your boyfriend, we won’t go easy on him.’

I smirk, ‘It’s okay. You don’t need to; after all they’re a sports school. I’m sure they’re going to give you a run for your money.’

Imaginary Friend

Noah is my most special friend. Only I can see him. He is like Peter Pan; he doesn’t grow old. He is always fourteen. He always looks the same. Curly brown hair. Stripy red jacket. Black jeans. He is always the same. I was five when I found him in Wendy house. He was fourteen then too. Wendy house is the old grey cubby house in Neverland. Noah told me that it wasn’t always grey. It used to be blue.  Neverland is the park behind my house. Mummy says its “Abandoned” so I shouldn’t play there. But I still do because Noah is there. He is Peter Pan and I am Wendy Darling. Neverland is our secret.

Mummy says I can’t mention Noah’s name in front of Daddy. It “upsets” him. My parents don’t like Noah. They think he isn’t real. That he is only make believe. But they don’t know Noah like I do. He is real. He is lighter than the dandelions that flutter in the wind. His laughter jingles like the chimes hanging from my window. He is warmer than the sun. He is my most special friend but he doesn’t belong to me. Because he is Peter Pan. 

Pillar and wall

Dedication: to all the important people in my life. Thank you for always being there even when I went into hiding.

- - - - -

When I was at my lowest, I pushed you away.
I don’t ever want you to see me like that.
Fragile like the paper wings of faeries I see in mirages.
Broken like the crumbs of smashed up porcelain.
Hydrating my soul on shots of tequila.

Sometimes, I picked up my phone but didn’t know who to call.
I didn’t know how to voice the words that died in the pit of my clenched throat.
They tumbled like clothes in the vortex of a washing machine.
The numbers I pressed were never dialled.
Too afraid to let go of my pride.

Because, I wasn’t supposed to be the weak one.
I was the pillar that held everyone else.
I picked up the broken pieces and glued each delicate fracture together.
All your happiness were my smiles because I couldn’t produce my own.
Somewhere along the way, my threads started becoming undone.

When I lost myself in the abyss, almost too far to reach with a single hand.
Your words rescued me before it was too late.
All your warmth and all your concerns, made me remember
That I was never truly alone.
That the knife that was so close to piercing,
should never have broken through my walls.

You are my walls.
You protect me from all that’s wrong with the world.
Constantly reminding me that I am loved.
As I have always loved you. 

Thank you.

Pre-Valentine's day

Dear beloved followers,

Tomorrow is Valentine's day in Australia. And every year, I write a little something to remind people that it's okay to be alone on that day. Because, it's not about how many roses or teddy bears you receive in your mail. It's not about whether or not you get serenaded at your office during lunch. It's about how you spend that day. Valentine's day symbolises love.

And love, it is not exclusively for people in relationships. It includes your friends and family too. But most importantly, it's a day to appreciate yourself even if others don't. Spend tomorrow doing something you love. Slip on your favourite outfit, take yourself to your favourite restaurant and enjoy a good meal. Or spend the night in with other friends and enjoy a movie night. Or if you're a book lover like me, spend the day surrounded by walls of shelves at the local library or bookstore. Whatever you're doing, do something you love because you have to remember to love yourself too.

Tomorrow morning, I'm going to dress up nicely and take the first train down south. There's this gorgeous place that I've been meaning to explore so I'm going to treat myself to a little adventure. Because, even if there's no one to take me, it doesn't mean I can't take myself. I'm not going to lose. I will have fun. Because, I'm not going to let a commercialised day let me down. Valentine's day, is a day about love. But even without the reminder, I know to appreciate the people who are important to me.

And that means remembering that you are important too. So beloved followers, whatever your plans are for Valentine's day, love your friends, love your family, love your partner but most importantly, love yourself.

Hugs and kisses,

Lucy

Ps. I I think I repeated myself a few times but you get the point right? Also, this could have been a lot worse if I had decided to follow through with vlogging this post.

I believe....

Inspired by Barry's post: What I believe

• I believe that you can indeed love more than one person at a time but for different reasons and in different ways.
• I believe that people no matter their age, gender, race, sexuality, physical or mental ability have a voice and that their voice should never be ignored.
• I believe in a love that last forever.
• I believe that parents should always be supportive of their children's decisions, even if it's wrong. They will discover that themselves.
• I believe promises are meant to be kept. Always.
• I believe that hope is never lost. It is found when we need it the most.
• I believe that violence is never the solution.
• I believe that if you're good, people will eventually realise. You shouldn't have to prove anything.
• I believe that people who hurt others for the fun of it are sick individuals. Entertainment should never be at the expense of others' safety.
• I believe people who burn books are missing out on a whole lot of knowledge.
• I believe that a smile doesn't always mean you're happy.
• I believe it takes time to get to know someone. Anyone who says that they can become someone's best friend in a few minutes has seriously misunderstood that word's definition.
• I believe it takes a lifetime to truly know someone.
• I believe that there are spirits.
• I believe people should always be given the benefit of a doubt.
• I believe animals have feelings and thoughts that matter. 
• I believe that it's okay to cry when you feel weak. 
• I believe that it's okay to sometimes feel weak.
• I believe that just because you wear lace stockings it doesn't mean you're a hooker.
• I believe that there is more love in this world than hate. 
• I believe that you should only ever say, "I love you" when you truly mean it.
• I believe words are beautiful and profanity is ugly. 
• I believe that leaving doesn't always mean running away. It means you need space to be alone.
• I believe that revenge does nothing for the past or future. It only gives you temporary relief.
• I believe that no one owns another person. No one has an obligation to stay in any relationship whether that is family, friends or lover. 
• I believe that everyone has a right to live in safety. No one should have to live everyday in fear of their lives or others.
• I believe hands are meant for caressing and lips are meant for kissing. They're not meant for hurting.
• I believe in Heaven and Hell.
• I believe that things can't always be bad.
• I believe that the world won't end this year.
• I believe that the guitar is one of the most beautiful instruments ever.
• I believe in good old fashioned love letters. They show more sincerity than an email or a text.
• I believe that I'm going to be alone this Valentine's day but that's okay because I don't need a commercialised day to tell me how to appreciate the people that are important to me.
• I believe that people will always judge but that doesn't mean you should listen to them.
• I believe that life should always be given and not taken.
• I believe that no one should ever be judged by their appearance. Size doesn't matter. Just because you're small doesn't mean you're not strong. Just because you're big doesn't mean you don't feel pain.
• I believe that I can't ever hate anyone.
• I believe that no matter how confused of who I am or who I want to be, I'll never be confused of my feelings. I know that I love you. Because I am always going to a lover. 

Lone journey

Once I've made a decision, my head feels lighter. It doesn't change the fact that this will be difficult and people will judge but for once in my life, I don't care. People will always judge. They don't matter. The only opinions that matter are those of my friends and family. And if they're not supportive then I'll just have to go through this alone.

And that's okay too.

Because, in a few months time, I'll be leaving on a journey of independence and self discovery. I can't find myself when all I can hear are the clashing voices of everyone around me. I would go now but two factors are holding me back:
1. Still saving money
2. I can't abandon my family when things are tough

So for now, I just have to be patient and persevere. I have to remember to find joy in the little things. Because, I know if I can't smile about the little things then I'll fall apart. I'm a desperate optimist.

Beloved followers, wish me luck.

Lucy (aka. Lovesick Fool)

Photographs

Once again, we're faking.
Happiness lasts but a mere second.
That fragile fleeting moment between a blink and a smile.
It fades away after your eyes stops stinging.
I'm holding onto your hand, afraid of falling.
Please don't let me go.
Don't let what we have crumble away after all we've been through.
Sometimes, the sky is so blue that it hurts.
Because, I cannot ever reach it with these hands.
I wonder if we're ever truly happy?
I try to capture your smile into a jar of forever.
But it flutters away just beyond my fingertips.
Why is it so hard to maintain a rainbow in the clouds?
Once again, we're breaking.
Photo frames slips off walls, non-existent.
I hide inside corners of doors, my hands shielding my ears.
Angry voices shakes the foundations of this house.
Photographs are only a mere second of a whole lifetime.
But they aren't exactly telling lies.
We were once happy.

Happy Lunar New Year

Midnight and Dawn

Part One

It was around midnight when I found her. She sat alone in the corner of the pub, nursing what I assumed was the remainder of a bottle of whisky and probably in her chest, heartache. Silently, I watched her as she sniffled and tucked long strands of hair behind her ear. Her dark puppy dog orbs eyed her glass and she gulped it down in one go. Her friends had told me. She was dumped last week and she saw her ex-boyfriend walking around with another woman this morning. Fucking loser. Only an idiot would leave her for some blonde bimbo. 

    I snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed someone walking towards her table. I leapt off my stool and hurriedly weaved through people to reach her. The drunkard was latched onto her wrist like a half-starved leech. He lewdly gave her the once over and pulled her to his chest. I had enough of this. I tapped his shoulder, ‘Excuse me but the miss is coming with me.’ I eyed him and tilted my head towards the door. Either he left peacefully now or he was getting a broken nose. He released her wrist and shuffled away, looking sullen. I turned my attention to Lauren and wrapped my arms around her, ‘Hey are you alright? Why didn’t you resist him? Why didn’t you break his hand? Isn’t that what you usually do?’ 

    Lauren wouldn’t look at me. She merely held onto my jacket tightly and cried. I patted her head and waited for a reply. She was someone that always answered questions truthfully. I felt her muffle something into my chest. I pulled away and stared at her. She repeated her words, ‘I wanted to get back at him. I wanted to sleep with someone like it didn’t matter.’ I let out a long sigh and clenched my fists. If I ever see him, I wasn’t letting him live another day. She deserved so much more than this. I brought out my wallet, slapped down a fifty dollar note and gently tugged her out the pub, ‘Come on. I’m taking you back to your apartment.’ 

    Outside, we breathed in the cold air as we waited for our taxi. It was around two in the morning before we made it back to her apartment. I sat her on her bed as I went into the kitchen to make honey and milk. It was her favourite winter beverage besides hot chocolate and tea. I returned to find her asleep. I smiled as I gave her a light kiss on the forehead and whispered, ‘Goodnight.’ She opened her eyes and mouthed, ‘Stay.’ I shook my head. It wasn’t a good idea to stay the night when she was still drunk. She sat up and held both my cheeks in her palms, ‘Please stay, Daniel.’ She said as she brought her lips to mine. And that was all it took to unravel the control I had in my hands. A simple kiss.

    I woke up at dawn to her crying. I held her close as I apologised into her ear. We sat in her bed silently as we watched the sun rise over her balcony. It was that moment that I would remember for a very long time. I finally had her in my arms and I was happy even though, I knew she never once thought about me that night. We fell asleep again, to the warmth of the morning. I didn’t wake up until late noon. My arm blindly searched for her beside me but I felt nothing. I raised my head. Nothing. I called for her but no one replied. I pulled on my jeans and searched every room in the apartment. Nothing. No one. Lauren wasn’t here. Shit. I raked my hair in frustration. Then I saw it. On the kitchen counter was a note and keys.

Dear Daniel,

Thank you for everything but I am sorry that I cannot stay.
I need to leave and I don’t know where I am going but I need to be alone for a while. Please don’t look for me. My apartment, you can do whatever you want with it. Keep it. Sell it. Whatever.

Lauren

    And that was it. She was gone. All I had of her was a memory that I cannot let go of and an apartment that I would probably never sell. I never really had her. She was never mine. 

Innocent until proven Guilty

Darling, it feels like it's only us against the whole world.
The ground is grumbling under our feet.
There is no where to flee.
We cannot escape this with our hands tied behind our backs.
It is a burning room with the exit sign bled out.
Air is suffocating around us.
Why are we in this situation in the first place?
What happened to innocent until proven guilty?
Isn't it enough that we found happiness in an abyss?
No, the world is still collapsing around us.
And angry hunters still hunger for our blood.
Darling, it's only us against the whole world.
And we have no voice to plead innocence with.
But I promise we'll survive this trial.
Because I believe in us.

Words

She says, words come cheap these days.
He says, all I want is a chance.

She shakes her head; words are beautifully crafted like ice sculptures. Intricate, magical but their time is not limitless. They are fragile. They break and melt. They lose their form.

She says, I'm afraid I will get hurt.
He says, I'll only ever be gentle. 

I can never be cruel. You are too precious, like a fragile puppy waiting for love but will bark at everyone because it's lonely.

She says, I believe you but I don't trust my heart.
He says, Who can you trust if not your own heart?

My heart is a broken kaleidoscope. Everything is beautifully twisted like a drunkard high on morphine. I can see the rose-tinted smiles and the triangular shapes of cloud-like dreams. What I can't see are the millions of possibilities that this ice cream truck will swerve off a cliff. But I trust you.

She says, I'll only ever trust you.

Train

They were in the train. They were always in a crowded train. It were only afternoons when they were going home that they got to be alone from everyone. It were these quiet afternoons on the train that she got to see him without his arrogance and laughter. He merely talked quietly with that smile of his.

The carriage jolted and her head bumped against his chest. She felt his chuckle as he patted her head. She was used to his touch by now and smiled at his warmth. But this time, his touch lingered. Sometimes, that happened. It were these little moments that she carried in her heart. His large hand remained on her head. Then, she felt the pressure on her head increased as he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on his own hand. The very one on her head.

She gazed up at him with a questioning look but he stared ahead unmoving. That moment of warmth suddenly gone. And so they remained silent for the rest of the trip until her stop. The doors opened and a flow of people moved out. He uttered a goodbye and she stepped away from him with her words just above a whisper, 'If you're going to kiss me, have the audacity to do it properly or don't at all.'  Either the way, his girlfriend would not appreciate what had happened. No matter how innocent it had seemed. She wanted to ask him what it meant but the words died in her throat. With a heavy sigh, she disappeared into the streets. She needed to get home.

Still You

I looked up from my newspaper as you walk passed with her.
For a second, I was lost. I was drowning in memories of last year. And I couldn't surface for air. I was suffocating. But it was only for a second before I regained consciousness and buried myself under my layers of worldly updates. It was too soon. It was too soon. It has been almost a year since the last time I saw you but it was still too soon. I was not ready. I don't think I'll ever be. I won't ever be ready for an awkward half-hour train ride being the third wheel.

I'm sorry.

I closed my eyes as I let the sound of creaking metal wash over me. When I opened my eyes again, the train had already reached my stop. Quickly, I shouldered my bag and raced onto the stairs. I knew you were behind me. You were somewhere in the crowd behind me but I dared not look back. My headphones bellowed in my ears and I was thankful that all I could hear was my own stabbing heart.  I escaped onto my bus with a small triumphant smile, I was safe.

I stared out the window and realised that you were there. No, I knew you were there. I could always feel your presence. It was an innate instinct. You held my eyes as you smiled passed. I couldn't help but smile too. I always smiled when you did. It was a habit. Because I was happy as long as you were happy.

I grinned to myself and forgot why I was hiding from you in the first place. I couldn't believe I wanted to escape from you. When you still made me smile. When you were still the person that enveloped me in warmth. When my heart still beats for you.

You are still special.