I cried when I got your message.
It was winter vacation, after my 17th birthday.
I went on a family trip down on the east coast of the island for three days. It was beautiful there, even in an empty, forgotten sort of way.
I cared about you. A lot.
I guess that's what made me so afraid. As if I would hurt you just like I hurt the others who crossed my path. Who felt that way. Who I took for granted. And then who broke into pieces.
People who I cared about, sure,
but selfishly, not nearly as much
as I cared about you.
The four of us in our family stayed in the same room at that hotel. I needed time alone though. I said I'd go explore the building.
There were five floors with two dead end halls going straight down on each corridor. Five doors each. A single elevator. That's the closest I got to exploring.
I sat on those stair in between the fourth and third, hoping my parents or the Chinese tourists wouldn't find me there.
I read your words. The one's about how you felt for me before.
I was scared. I cried.
Tears on the fuzzy blue carpet. Inching across the cracked screen of my phone.
And I needed time.
Time.
To know how to feel again.
So when you asked,
I didn't say.
Because I didn't know what
to say.
And I didn't want to utter the lies
I was so familiar with before.
Because you mattered
And I cared about our friendship.
I cared about us
And what we had.
And I cared about you.
A lot.
And you weren't something I could bear to see
destroyed by me,
just like I did to the rest.
YOU ARE READING
»scatter-minded«
Poetrywe laugh, we cry. we love, we hate. we live, we breathe, we feel. life is said to be a roller-coaster ride, a puzzle, a journey, a story. and sometimes all that's needed is a little pause, to take a breath and contemplate all of its little matters...
