i see them disguising as everything, and i often see them in my empty scars.
sometimes, i see them coming as the first rainfall of november, caressing my skin as they unravel all the memories they left within me—reminding me of summer evenings spent writing about staying away for too long or for leaving without closing the door. sometimes, i see them coming as thin clouds scattered above and that i know they’re regretting to see me on my knees trying to kiss flowers on graveyards, reading the remnants while hopelessly finding words to know why is it good to be alive. sometimes, i see them coming as my favourite songs lingering in the insides of my mind, continuously drawing lines into it making every memory vivid—too vivid that sometimes, remembering them starts to hurt as breathing. there are nights that i will wake up just to find myself longing for something that i know is long far gone, but will still look for its shadows while hoping that it can hold me once again for me not to feel anything but just to know that they’re still here.
sometimes, writing their names reminds me of sunset, white flowers, last day of December, moving trains, fireworks and everything that can be other way to spell “good byes”. sometimes, they remind me of tomorrow, ticking clocks, beaming stars and every random things that i can see as pretty and sad at the same time. sometimes, i can find myself dreaming or i really see them coming disguised as lonely nights, hugging me and whispering me this: death is a proof that nothing is more painful than life. sometimes, i can see myself still playing the ringtones that i’ve set just for them and sometimes, i can find myself dialing one’s number hoping that there’ll be a voice that will speak my name at the other side of the line. there are times that i swear i can still see them everywhere; sometimes, they disguised as beautiful things, sometimes as heartaches but often disguised as my soul’s missing piece. there are nights that i’m imagining they are just beside me, that they are just somewhere far away but they’ll come every rainy nights and that they never really left.
sometimes, a long day will make me remember how they left a part of them inside of my palms and how they carve a home inside me that if ever they leave, the space would be forever empty for it’s where their embraces remained. sometimes, they’ll be coming as temporary things but i often see them as eternal for i know that as long as their names residing in my tongue, they’ll never die. and perhaps, they’ll live again—somewhere, someday. but for now, i won’t get tired telling stories of how they took a part of me that no one could ever replace and that—
i’ll forever let them disguise as everything until i finally see them again.
— 03:32 l. sin, to always remember
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»» photo (without the words in it) taken from Drew Wilson
