I know that most of your thoughts about me concerns doubt.
Doubt
Uncertainty
Hesitation
Who would’ve thought? We are both a person of sudden meetings. It’s like two different water bumped to each other in a ceasingly pitch black rendezvous. Nowhere to skip nor hide.
Do the two different water will embrace each other or act like a mere oil when mixed with other liquids? Will they let their density be fragile and just warmly conquer themselves?
No one knows, the other water might be translucent. Seemingly absorbing the light oozing out in the rendezvous like a molasses: thick, dark, and intense. The other one might be placed somewhere deep with its turquoise hue allowing you to see deep down—or is it murky and opaque? Rippled from waves, but still calm.
If they’re not compatible, will it be a chaos? We’re polar opposites, no one’s certain if it’ll attract or repel. But in our case, with all the rawness of my intent, I’ll let myself be absorbed by you. Let it be like a black hole: it’ll hurt, paralyzing, or it’ll leave me breathless into pieces with no escape. But in some ways, all of it will be painsworthy. You are worth the time inside the unknown timeless black hole. You are worth something.
Things might be beyond superficial, it looks like a bottomless lake. It is not shallow for it is risky and unsure; however, one couldn’t just recklessly jump into the alluring turquoise hue of the lake. Something bad might happen. Everything that is done perilously have consequences. Being hasty because something is mesmerizing will just get everything difficult.
The other water will stop in haste. Its gliding will be meticulously slow towards the lake. A log will halt its pace. Their unknown rendezvous will be seen with the sunlight raging into it—with its calmness and remaining warmth. Its sail will discontinue; but
I’d flow through an aisle of shattered glasses just to take a glimpse for any traces of you. Even just a single glance, even just a brief moment to enjoy your scent once again. I would gladly take the route with fire even if it means striking down the warmth. Undoubtedly, somehow, I am precise that the berserk inside you can be tamed. With its intense rage, even if it’s on your edge, even though the weight is heavy when tamed.
Because like a long running river, it might be dark, unknown, and vague—but every edge has a pristine end to it. It is hard to jump on something elevated, but one thing’s for sure, it might be risky yet aristocratic.
