Monday, April 21, 2014

Your white things and I.

A tulip, a letter and a kiss planted on my cheek. Three things I am weak against. Three things I almost love as much as I love you. It's white, my favorite. The envelope is a square, almost see-through and I could see a paper folded perfectly. Neatly tied to that single stem. It's white too. You do it gracefully, effortless. It almost tricks me and on a different day I would've fell for it. You, the envelope, the tulip and the kiss. It says something else, it means something I feel it. Tell your eyes that. Let them know, convince them. You trick me. And if it wasn't what I know it is, I would've sighed in relief, stood on my toes reached out to thanked you for it the way you deserve. 

Why can't I open it until your gone? Until you give me your back walk away from me. 
Wouldn't it be late to read when you're long gone? That's what you want? Reading your words on paper, alone? I remember your handwriting in blue ink, my first letter. And the way you stood watching me closely, as I read every other letter that ever came after...
"For you, for the love of ink on paper." 

Your white things. The tulip shaking in my hands, I can barely keep hold of it. It's slipping through my fingers. The fragile beautiful white thing. I shake, I tighten my grip. Too fragile that it feels like breaking. It blurs. I can barely see you standing before me. They stream down my face. I look down to my feet. It didn't move you. It is that bad.

That sidewalk. You wore a white shirt, complementing your arms, making me feel safe. We were walking side by side, shoulder to shoulder or more like my head almost to your arms, clinging to you. You were talking nonstop and you never talk nonstop. That's what I do, you listen to me endlessly. You started stealing my role. I liked that. You looked down at me, that calm but loud voice in my ear, the sound of you that only I bring out.. 
"I could go on and tell you anything." 

Right there and then, I could see it in your eyes, you opened up to me like a eagle ready to fly, ready to soar so high in my sky. One that I owned and my eagle was barely visible from the ground. Mighty. 

What are you trying to say. Why don't you say it to me?

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