Words I Owe To Him

What Insanity Taught Me

You taught me. 

From the day I wrote to you, pouring out whatever was in me, onto something that I showed you. That wasn't even the half of it. And you taught me that sometimes, some people don't even deserve the half of what we have to offer them. 

From the day you started paying attention; to the tiny details, to the conjoined laughs, to the shared drops of Jupiter, to me. I saw so much more than what you did. 

I saw the crinkle in your eyes, you saw the colour of mine. 

I saw the little dips in your fingers, you saw the way I moved my hand.

I saw the creases in your face when you smiled, you saw my joy. 

And you taught me that sometimes, some people don't always see the world with the vision you want them to have. 

From the nights with lights on at 3 am, when we shared moments even though distance apart. It was soft and slow at first, almost like a rhythm. a laugh, a heartbeat skipped, a laugh, a dead end. A fall. Over and over and over again. But for you it was just another moment amidst the sea of laughter spread over your entrails of friends.  And you taught me that sometimes, some people open up their hearts when you open up your soul. 

From the afternoon in the blazing sun, when you were my one, and you were my sun, when it all went crumbling down. I searched for constellations but I could only find stars. When you glanced at me and you knew you had done something, the guilt of which I wish never leaves you alone. In that moment alone, you taught me more than you ever had. 

You taught me that sometimes, some people aren't meant to be your lobsters even if you engulf them with the sea. 

You taught me that sometimes, some people will sleep through the sunset to watch the sunrise, even if you like the deep purple more than the blue. 

You taught me that if I broke, you'd pick up the pieces. 

Not of my shattered essence.

But of the glass you threw at me. 

Even though you've stopped teaching, I'll never stop learning.