Counting Sheeps at Mornings
I am writing a letter not because I feel like I have something to say , but because I have no more words left. I am writing the first thing that comes into my mind , because somehow , I get the feeling that I have to write something about you , or something for you. I am trying to live forever by making memories each day , and if I will somehow get the chance , I would love to make all those memories involving the way the sun fell on your face.
I am restless and ecstatic , not because I am too happy or because I have had too much to drink. I am restless because I have the strangest push of being in some place , ecstatic about the though of it. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the place , but what is exactly in there. I’ve always imagined myself somewhere , where , I don’t know. I have this view of a streetlamp , a river and a bridge – with me standing , watching the river flow and watching faces that walk right past me. It’s weird because I have never seen myself standing there with someone, pointing at things in amusement or asking questions that I know the answer myself. I have never imagined you.
What it is about you that makes me bang my head on the wall is something unknown and probably , will always be. I don’t want to find out the reason why nor do I have the courage to face whatever it is. It is so sweet that I am developing cavities – so bitter that it makes me cry. Despite those times when the nights fell on my head , my stand on protecting you somehow still dominates my totality. Despite your so-called difference and weirdness and stupidity , there will never be a thing that you confess that is going to make me love you less.I will probably collapse before you do , maybe it’s true – you made a promise to fall before me though. Can you imagine how much it’s going to hurt your chest to have someone else fall on it in the hardest impact possible? I soar high so I will probably fall hard. Nevermind that though – that is still the sweetest thing.
I sigh when I see the moon , despite the absence of the arms to cling on at night or the mess in the room that I have always wanted us to create. I see angels and devils when I look at you , I freeze and burn at the same time. If there is one thing that I know about passion , it must be talking in riddles , defenses taking control. It must be talking in a way that you are going to ask what the hell do I really mean. Whatever it is that you don’t understand , let us keep it that way. Eventhough it is getting easier for me to admit how much I love and need you , there is still a part of me that is freaking scared of the thought.
I am given half the chance of being with you but I will spend my entire lifetime making it worth it. I will be with you until the darkest hour , that is a promise that I intend to keep with all that I have. Regardless of the role that I have to play in your little fairy tale , you have my word on the promises that I left.
I guess I am done for now , for my brain stopped functioning for some reason. Thank you for standing by. Thank you for having the intention of continuing to do so.
Leave a Reply