Erased

13 1 0
by Duuunuts
by Duuunuts
                                    
                                              He, whose good in everything. Talented, creative and an artist. He's making our story in a canvas by his bare hands. Painting it with a genuine smile plastered on his lips. He said, he will let me see it when finished. 
                          He made our story with his own so I was happy, he made me happy, he made a move, finally. I was grabbed by the thought of love, I was drowned of his attention and moves that I felt I'm the most special girl. Our story was impulsive, it was fast and it felt right. We're just--- in love. 
                          And it felt like, we have our own little world-- no, I felt like we were in different place, an out of this world place everytime we're together.

                          We once rode a motorcycle. Him, maneuvering the vehicle engine while me, at his back. All curled up, afraid of every curves and roars. 
                          He was laughing tremendously, he doesn't have a helmet on for the reason that he let me wear it. 
                          He said, he will do everything to protect me, but, it doesn't feel right. Everything's not in proper pieces that night. 
                          He said he will protect me at all cost but why did he let me feel afraid? Why didn't he slowed down when I asked him to?
                          Sadly because "I want you to feel what I'm feeling. Didn't you enjoy it? The wind that blows you hair, the wind that takes away all the negativities you're feeling---- the FREEDOM?"
                          That time, my hand was trembling out of fear that I couldn't move, he peeled my arm off him. 
                          My body feels wobbly like a jelly. I couldn't even manage to slack off the helmet out of my head that he needed to undid for me. 
                          The reckless speed he showed off that gives me fear and the way he peeled my arm off his because he wanted the feeling of freedom. 
                          He wanted it even without noticing that I'm too afraid at his back but still, I'm doing my best to hold tight.
                          The story he wrote, he finished it along with our story, we're finished and it was erased, not by him nor me, it.. disappeared, I think when the weather and the fog of dawn came, it moisturized.. 
                          Because just when I realized, it was written on a glass.. 
                          Where it can be erased automatically. Our story was erased by---- time.
                          And the glass, it didn't break nor bulge. But there was nothing left there.. But moist, a mark. Our mark.