Almost loves are the hardest to get over, I find. And while you attempt the path of least resistance, there are moments when your sense are assaulted and you can't help but express them in poetry. Yet you know that nothing good will come of this, so rationality trumps desire, and you don't. This is to pay homage to that small moment, and to letting it go.
I want to write about you.
About how my heart still skips several beats at the sight of you, slumped into a chair in quiet focus, your eyes fixated on whatever is intriguing you.
I want to write about how when your face spreads into a smile, or a full on chuckle where your eyes completely disappear behind the frames of your glasses, I cannot help but smile too.
I want to pen down the many different ways your intonations send shivers down my spine and back up my neck, making me stiffen in anticipation despite knowing nothing will come of it.
I want to describe your many volumes, like the softness in the way you say my name and the tad raise in the way you mockingly tell me you can see me smiling in the corner of your eye.
I want to count all the little things you do that are just for me, like making lame jokes and shaving a little too close, but shrug them off as things you just do because we both know to the public eye, I don't own them just like I don't own you.
I want to bleed out how much I have missed you, how despite months of separation it took less than a minute to amplify the feelings I have fought so hard to surpress, that we only encapsulate in Thank Yous.
I want to write about you,
But I can't.
2.28am, 21st September 2016
SB is a conflicted soul of sorts, who is mad enough to go chase after what she really loves as opposed to conform to society and her mother's idea of a successful person. She prays she makes it in life, because she will not be able to tolerate the nagging that would follow if she doesn't. Her inspiration comes from everything around her, as well as made up situations in her head. Good luck distinguishing between the two.