I won't make cliché replies like: "I don't know, the whole world feels different when I'm around you" or "I don't feel a thing but this moment with you" when you ask me how I feel for you.
I won't butter up comments of love like in the movies, or some romance novel will. I won't make promises to you, not because I'm afraid of breaking them, but because I'm afraid of breaking you.
This feeble hands knows all too well the pain you share with them when they interlock. This organ in my chest knows secrets you have not told to anyone; I won't promise you, so I won't hurt you.
I'll rather go on dates in quiet places where we can be alone just us two to share our secrets some more. I'll rather take you to a street book shop and we would pick out an interesting series of characters just like us. They won't promise each other, but they won't be broken either. They'll have to be the kind of people that don't scale over huddles they made themselves, because that would be easy. It's easy to runaway from everyone and everything and never look back. It isn't to stay and fix the issue so you don't have to scale but slip through— through just a crack of space, that proves you've made progress in resolving the issue.
Let's visit aquariums and watch the sea from within; maybe this blue that isn't the sky will help us fall in love all over again. Maybe this blue that isn't the sky will help us make something more than promises— something exciting, something real, something we wouldn't call cliché.
And maybe the sea is another blanket the sky forgot to lend us.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers From The Dark
PoetryIt all started with one person -the bane of my existence. And from there, the whole random package. This has to be the deepest emotions I've felt penned down in one single book-did i break that person or did I end up broken?
