Reverie

~ It's a new year ~

The year is ending but I still haven't changed your address from my heart to my notes app. I guess growing old doesn't come with the courage to empty out your own heart, because somewhere I am still afraid of finding out who I am when I am not dreaming about you. The year is ending and my resolution to protect my heart before yours gathers another layer of dust as it lays buried under all the love letters that bears your name and my sign.

Someday I might come to terms with the fact that the address on the letters are wrong. Someday, I might write the correct one but tonight, the ink is bleeding for you, again...

My therapist told me it's time to let go of things I cannot change, and I agree. Technically. It's very difficult to not lay in the same grave that I am digging for my dreams when I see you sewing my wings that you clipped right before I took flight, onto someone who's afraid of heights. As I struggle to pull myself out the grave, you are wiping the remaining crumbs of your love off someone who can't even tell salt from sugar. I am learning to let go of things I cannot change, and it includes you too...

//I had to dig deep or else I might pull them out every night, just to look at them one last time. Guess I forgot how little time it takes you to forget my existence//

The year is ending and I'm still three steps away from that first step towards my dream, wondering why the universe is convinced that I like collecting tragedies as trophies, 'cause it keeps sending the shiny, embellished cups filled to the brink with uncertainty and breathlessness, and questions. There's a metaphor hidden somewhere in the handle, a poem on the cover, but I'm too tired to learn a new language.

Instead, if I smash the trophies, do you think the question marks would finally turn into a convincing period for my arguments?

- Ish, stop eating the dust coated crumbs. You have already taught yourself how to cook