petrichoresque

[petrichoresque]

I will miss this moment a lot in my life, I think.

[petrichoresque]

In time, their faces, voices and aura will fade. Our memories are nothing but conjured fragments of what we wish were true. But that's alright.

For there is no way I can describe her accurately, and I do not wish to do so. Those memories are for me, and for me only.

[petrichoresque]

The youth experience life for the very first time. The old relive their memories of when they were young.

Alas, the benefit of growing old, is the ability to turn pain into a memory.

[petrichoresque]

"Just give it a try. You can always come home and not finish it."

[petrichoresque]

One day you will meet someone who will treat you with so much love and respect that you wouldn't know what to do with it. One day a beautiful person with soft eyes will gaze at you steadily and you will forget all the reasons why you were scared to trust. One day you will forget the hurt, anxiety and confusion that love has caused you in the past.

One day.

[petrichoresque]

It's different when you say that your happiness is made up of so much of them, instead of how your happiness makes up so much of theirs.

[petrichoresque]

Sometimes it is easy to forget that nothing lasts forever. The milk in your fridge will turn sour, your favourite pillow will slowly turn yellow, and people change.

In a world of transcience, as long as we were sincere in the moment, that's all that matters. Even if the flowers lose their colour, and the stars don't seem so bright anymore, at least once upon a time they were.

At least once upon a time, we were.

[petrichoresque]

what i miss isn't the snow but a winter with you in it.

[petrichoresque]

Eyes tell more stories than mouths ever will.

[petrichoresque]

You gave me the happiest but also the saddest days of my life, taught me true love but also shattered my heart into irretrievable pieces. But if I could turn back the clock, I'll do it all over again, even if the ending never changes. Because you will never know how much I loved you, and what I would give to live it through all over again.

[petrichoresque]

tears

Maybe it's the cold wind against my face,

that makes everything else feel warm

like the tears today

felt warm as they welled up

oh how they stung

but it's alright

I'm glad that I'm reacquainted with my old friends

it's been quite a while since they visited

these drops of pain and sorrow

[petrichoresque]

those eyes

I will miss those eyes, the way they shone and sparkled when she looked at me. Someday someone else will get to see those very same eyes, and I could only wish that she would still hold the innocent, loving gaze that she gave me, and the one fortunate enough to receive it would treasure it far more than I ever did.

[petrichoresque]

In a room full of people, you can't be more alone. People listen to music, while you devour every meaning each word has to say. They see joy, you see exclusion. They feel excitement, enthusiasm, ecstasy; you feel alone, trapped and sinking ever so quickly into a bottomless abyss of darkness.

I lay there, feeling every ounce of energy drain out of me, the faint throb of my heartbeat at my fingertips. My diaphragm doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Breaths shallow, shallow like the water I thread in, yet I am drowning because I can't stand up.

Laying there, my head's underwater, engulfing, submerging, until all I hear is the very same silenced cries that water muffles. My voice, drowned out, and yet the small voice in the back of my head continues to ring in my ears.

[petrichoresque]

subtleties

Sometimes it is easy to forget that everyone is fighting their own battles, and we can never really tell as strangers that we are. And so it is important to remember that.

Subtleties kill. Like an ant gnawing away, slowly but surely, every inch of my being, will be devoured.

It never hurts to lend a helping hand, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on.

[petrichoresque]

"Because the day I fell for you, was the day I fell apart."

[petrichoresque]

tell me more

I want to know all about you, what makes you happy, what makes you sad, and whether you have cried more tears of joy than those of melancholic sorrow. Tell me, why you seem so sad all the time, why the slightest thing makes you tear up, why you always seem so ready to pour your soul out but you never do. Tell me what made you turn from a hopeless romantic into a jaded pragmatist.

Tell me every little insignificant detail about your childhood, because they aren’t insignificant to me. I want to know the little snippets of your life that you treasure so much, the little pieces of you left that have kept you sane all these while, as you battle with your demons and kept your resilience as much as you could. Tell me about those days where you lost to them, how the voices in your head mocked you, and yet you got up again the next day, and did it all over again. Tell me how hard it was, how many times you wanted to give up, how badly you wanted a hug from someone to tell you that it will all be okay. 

[petrichoresque]

tell me

I will wait for the moment that you regain that sparkle in your eye, and I will tell you, “Welcome home, my love.”

That look in your eyes, I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen it on those who have gone through hardships, those that have been through wars, and those who have been through hell and back. I’ve seen it on those who have been betrayed, who have had enough of everything around them and they can’t help but fall into boundless depravity.

But not yours. Your eyes resemble theirs, but not entirely, not exactly. There’s something about them that screams defiance. You were once in that endless abyss, but it seemed that you have managed to crawl your way out of it. How? What? When? 

Why?

Tell me. Tell me your story. Tell me why when you speak you speak with such calmness and confidence, and yet your eyes tell a different tale. Is your composure an outcome of battle-hardened fights that have coerced you into who you have to be today, or was it a voluntary choice? Tell me everything about you, your past, present and what you envision for the future. Tell me your dreams that you had and the aspirations that you have. And for all that has changed, tell me, what killed the excitement in you for the dreams that you used to long for so fervently. Don’t just tell me about your day, tell me about your days. The days that I have yet to exist in your life. I want to know.