Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
x.JUST KNOW THAT I'M CLOSER THAN NOTHING
(phil good—i'll fix it)
You had stayed after. I wasn't complaining nor did I mind it. Your presence had always brought me peace and I hadn't planned to let you go just yet. You were this muse that kept me intact and from a painful fall. You were magnetic and I was too weak to detach myself off you.
After breakfast, we had spent almost the whole day on my couch, in front of the TV, watching movies after movies that had come up in our mind. We had watched anything, starting with animation, comedy, action, romance until thriller and ultimately horror.
You weren't surprised at all that I hadn't mind horror when you had suggested one. You had been, and still was, a piece of the puzzle I couldn't finish. You were too mysterious, enigmatic and I was just in such calamity, or perhaps fortuitous, to be there around you.
You were this crime scene that needed to be solved, I was the detective frantically trying to find the culprit. I couldn't—wouldn't—let this lead into a cold case. You were a mystery worth solving.
When Twilight had come, where night chased the day and moonlight came to replace the golden shades of sun, painting the sky in a hue of orange and dark blue. I had no choice but to let you go, you had said that you needed to be back to your place before nightfall. I had opted to glue my mouth rather than to beg for you to stay.
I was desperate for your sole existence, but you had promised to be back. It had felt like a game of push and pull. That day in the library, when you had warned me to stay away, you had tried to push me. Yet, you were this magnet that had kept me wanting to get back to you. I was ravenous for your presence, just the thought of you in the same vicinity.
You, Felix Lee, were the painter that had kept on decorating and redecorating my mind. Filling myself with various shades of emotions; abstract and surreal, with a modicum of melancholy. You had painted my life into a better masterpiece of art and I couldn't picture the life in the future without you.
And so I had waited, until nightfall did swallow up the whole sky in jet black and the moon, along with its company—the stars, finally took a fresh breath of air. The sun had sacrificed itself to let its lover—the moon—breath. A kind of tragic story that I would enjoy (even though I couldn't have prepared myself for what would come).
Once moonlight disappeared along with the arrival of dawn, I was already awake and up. The sun came back and shimmered its magic, painting the honey sky into a much brighter day.
