oblivion | p.j.m

xx.

Beginnings are strange.

I didn't have anyone,
I had her.
And at the very moment,
She was everything.

I didn't completely come clean over my outburst.
She didn't seem to mind a bit.
She just gave me warmth
And a safe haven in her arms for a while.

She didn't want to force me to speak,
She could tell sometimes I preferred silence.
She also said she didn't feel I was up to it.
The first day she saw me,
She said it looked like someone killed my puppy,
Today I looked like a distressed puppy.

I sat hunched in a bench seat near the counter,
Pouting and smothering my face in my scarf.
She would glance over at me every now and again,
One time I caught her,
Getting trapped in the void of brown,
Before I sent her a small glare making her giggle.

They sounded of wind chimes in a breeze.
For once,
I didn't cringe,
But I wanted to close my eyes and bottle the sound.
She still infuriates me a bit.
But I felt prone to stay.
She'd seen me cry,
I know she's hunt me down if I tried to leave after that.

Yet, as I sat,
The warm air swirling with coffee scent mist,
I realised,
I didn't want to leave
Because the warmth wasn't from the heater,
But her smile
And the fact that even after how I treated her,
She would still sit down next to me
And tell me how she thinks her cactus are dying.

I had grown attached without realising.