Lovesick

04 | aureate

04

aureate

pertaining to the fancy or flowery words used by poets

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I was in a coffee shop. I was stirring my cup of coffee, writing things on my journal that said, "Have you ever loved somebody but the timing was off?"

It was a cut to the heart.

The air in the coffee shop became tremulous, as the sky mumbled with harsh growls, rain descended. I continued writing as my scrawls became infinite, as they were once a happy past, as they were like from a remembrance of a happy childhood.

It wasn't just a light drizzle, but it was the kind of rain that would hurt if it were to be bombarded on someone's skin. The clear glass window became turned tainted, like a city starting to wax ashes.

I looked at the glass—rain was pelting hard. It looked something like a prison—criminals locked up inside, creating distortion out of the real world.

As the waitress wiped the glass with her damp piece of cloth, my eyes spotted a familiar figure, and as the glass became crystal clear and my visions pure, I saw him.

He was standing next to the food stall, looked like he was waiting for a taxi. He was staring at how rain touched the ground like we once did, but just in a distance of memories, we flowed and seperated into thousands of water.

As I continued to take down everything my heart could give, as how tempestous it could be, I looked down to see what I wrote, my heart bled.

"Will you ever hear me in the rain?"

That was what I scribbled in the page.

My heart was pierced by some sort of sharp object. It created blots of hearbreak and pain and his name will forever etch my scarred heart. It will leave my garden with nothing but a storm and it will kill all the flowers.