When The Wind Whispers

Perhaps, I Can Call You Mine

"we were happy, weren't we?"


and your words kept playing on my mind. each time was a different kind of pain. it tore me apart. there was an unexplainable sting on my chest. and even though i was alive, my heart died. the sky cried with me. the rain wasn't calming anymore. it was bitter, and alone, and just... sad. i forced myself not to make any sound when i sobbed. i wanted to cry my heart out. i wanted to scream to chase the pain away.


but how could i? i couldn't disturb the silent night. for i fear, only i could hear my voice. and if it echoed back, then i really am alone. that would mean you are no longer with me.


that's what scares me.


tell me you love me, and if you don't, then... lie. lie to me, lover. i'd rather feed myself with lies than to suffer hearing those words from you. how can i continue, when you have consumed my system? you're in me. i can tell whenever you're around even if i'm surrounded by a crowd. i memorized you. how soft your feet lands on the ground, how light your footsteps were compared to others. i won't turn my head unless it is you that i will see.


i'd choose you. i chose you. in every possible way. but right now, we can't be together. you were a poison to my system. to my being— to me. and i am nothing but a misunderstanding, clouding you with thoughts.


if i can't have you here, maybe, in another lifetime.


call out to me,
if our hands accidentally touched reaching for the same book at a library.
call out to me,
if my shoulder brushed into yours as we walked past each other at a park.
call out to me,
if you saw me walk into the train you've just been on.
call out to me,
if the barista accidentally gave you the coffee with my name.
call out to me,
if you saw a portrait of yours in a museum with my signature.
call out to me,
if you saw your name on the book i wrote.
call out to me,
if we fell in love, as we did back then.
call out to me,
if i stumble upon you.


call out to me, my beloved. my fragile dove. my lover, the love of my life. my ali, the closest thing i've held that resembles heaven.


and then, pull me close, into a hug. the tightest hug you can ever give someone. embrace me, all of me. keep me in your arms, as if you'd never let me go. not again.


in other circumstances, perhaps, i can call you mine. without the actual words being said, just us, finally together. i will find you, let us trace the scars on our hearts, on our bodies. and with every scar, i would replace with a gentle kiss.


he was right when he said, 'love is the most twisted curse of all.'


we can't have each other. not now. not when i am hurting. not when you're with someone else. and to answer your question,


"yes, zen, we were happy."


at the least, before it all fell apart.


— she was dearly loved ; 1998