The closure that I have always yearned for has finally arrived—but not instantly. It took weeks for the truth to be accepted as I etched the reality deeper into my heart. I can still remember the first time I acknowledged the faintest feelings for you. I was walking home when I heard my name called, and there you were—riding your motorcycle with that playful smirk lighting up your face, as if daring me to recognize our unspoken connection.
I tried, time and again, to get rid of these feelings, to convince myself that they were nothing but fleeting infatuation that will eventually pass. Yet they held on possessively, refusing to be ignored and unspoken. For one last time, I reached out and hoping against hope that something may change for the last seven years. But as expected, you refused with your gentle yet firm "no". How can I still find you attractive after rejecting me? How can I still smile after you reminded me, once again, that there will always be a distance between us; neither one of us should cross?
It is late at night and I'm compelled to finish this book even though the chapters were dedicated to the mere letter of your name. Two from which will remain unfinished and unwritten. It's excruciating to bid farewell with the words, "Don't be a stranger" to someone I will recognize in the midst of the crowd, and has eyes that will forever haunt even my unconscious state.
Thank you and goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Silent Yearnings
Roman d'amourIt's almost dawn and I'm here in front of my laptop. Blasting Keshi's music as I type away the feelings I should have buried a long time ago. I should have let it go when I knew, yet I am still here. Delusional and currently writing poems that was m...
