ROSE

58. Suppressed

They say that poems holds self feelings, words that comes from the heart. I read a couple of poems. I didn't meet the authors but I didn't matter. I met them through their words, their poems. I want to have this talent, the talent to write poems that can hold feelings, can tell a story, my story, write a poem that can show my pain, but it's not possible. Poetry is a cave to escape reality and access the inner thoughts and feelings and that's exactly what I want to have. But sadly, my pain can't be felt through pain, it could be seen, read through the words on papers, but nobody will be able to feel what I feel. Nobody will be able to see what's behind these sad words.

I sighed and pushed away the laptop. I'm not in the mood to write anymore. I grabbed my phone and unlocked it. I sighed. Just seeing this phone, reminds me of him. Without thinking twice, I went to my camera roll and watched the pictures I have. I remembered when he gave me the phone and told me that he took a couple of pictures of himself so when he's not around I don't miss him. I smiled at the thought and clicked on one of the pictures and zoomed in on his face. I smiled. I miss him but I will never admit it. I scanned his features, how soft they are when he smiles and how strong they look when he looks mad or angry, how weak they look when he's sad or in pain. I softly caressed the screen, wishing that it was his own face.

I gulped and watched his eyes. I pretended that it was moving, I pretended that he was close to me. His eyes intensely looked into mine as if he could see my soul, I felt like I might dissolve into the black screen and be locked inside this picture with him. His hands on my cheeks, caressing softly my skin. His smile reminding me how lucky I am to have him. But at that exact moment of my thoughts, I zoned back into reality, blinked and had remind myself that he isn't for me. I have to learn this, he isn't for me. In this world, everyone will find someone that will fall in love with and build a future with then realize that he isn't for her. You will love him, you'll fall deep in love with him, he will have all what you've been looking for in your life partner, all what your heart wanted to see in this person's eyes, but you'll end up somewhere else, somewhere far away from where he is. You won't be able to get close again because you know that if you do, you will not be able to leave again. And the days will pass with the thoughts that will grow, searching for one excuse to go back at him, run to him and beg him to forgive you for all this time that you weren't there even if when you left, it was his fault, but as hard as you think for one excuse, you won't find any. You'll try to hate him to be able to move on, you'll push yourself to find one thing to hate him for, but you won't find any. Not because he is perfect but because your eyes filters each imperfection he has. You'll hate how much you're attached, you'll hate how much your heart breaks in pieces every time he crosses your mind, you'll hate how your hearts are attached even if you're on the other side of the planet. You'll feel dumb for leaving. You'll wish you could go back to think twice before letting him go. Maybe...maybe sometimes you'll think that he's yours, he's the one for you but then you remember all the times your heart dripped blood from the grief you've been through because of him and it will hit you and you'll finally say...he's not for me.

I have to keep reminding myself this, he isn't for me. He never was and never will. We are not made for each other.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I gulped to not tear up and let the phone down and pulled the laptop back to keep writing the article. I need to finish this for tomorrow, but right when I started to type down a new sentence, my phone started ringing. I looked at the screen and it was an unknown number. It must be the New York magazine. I accepted the call right away.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Miss Watson?" A male voice said from the other side of the phone.

"Yes."

I was right. It was the guy from the magazine. He was making sure that I was still agreeing with traveling to New York to do the meeting with the head of the New York magazine. He told me that they are paying for the flights, for the hotel room and they will have a car to drive me here and there whenever I want. I agreed, of course and thanked him for his time.