H.R #3 IN TOLD | A collection of the told and untold, the hidden and revealed, but everything - all this and everything else - written down in solemn words, in phrases, compiled and collected as poetry and prose.
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It was in our classroom we'd always been studying in - my favorite subject. Its where I'd find an easy, relieving comfort sometimes, like a ray of light in the darkness, like fire on ice.
No. Like freedom.
Like a breeze that gently would caress the willowy branches, and orchards may lean onto the touch, dancing to and fro to the melodic wind...
Yes. Freedom.
And the sight of him would lift up my heart to lean onto the breeze, freely carried to feel the song of our love, the rhythm of his heartbeat. Every syllable he spoke was beautiful, as if he brought life to a dead star that once throbbed a light, beamed rays and colors and everything... and oh, there is always so much more...
They say at times he shouldn't talk much. Fuck, no. They never see what I hear. They don't hear what I see.
We sat together, side by side. Our hands intertwined.
They didn't see.
We smiled at each other.
The didn't see.
He laughed, and so did I. He laughed a loud laugh, a sharp breath he then drew after an exhale - an exhale he didn't want to let go.
They didn't see.
And I laughed with a laugh I hadn't laughed in a while, and pulled him closer, till we were a breath apart.
They didn't see.
But I turned his face to the side, and whispered into his ear, "sshh... They will know, they will know..."
They didn't see.
And he looked confused, but he took my hand that caressed his cheek and curled his fingers around mine. He drew himself closer, and his lips traced my jawline.
They didn't see.
And I laughed a short laugh, and so did he. He placed his head on my lap, and our eyes meet.
They didn't see.
As if he were looking at the stars he used to gaze at his despairful nights. As if he were searching for his beloved in those skies.
They didn't see.
My hands stroked his soft hair, his cheeks that had worn so pink, to his shoulder, till his hand...
"Don't worry," he replied, his voice so tender and warm, it blanketed my heart; I am drowning into the sea of his love.
And I was with him, and he was with me. We were so close, and yet they couldn't see. Side by side, hands intertwined. And showed love we try to hide. Every morning, revealing at night. A bright Wednesday it seemed, but we wore no façades. They had been blind, they failed to see him and I.
"They would never know..." His fingers run down through a lock of hair that escaped from my braid. I drew my head close to his, shared the same air, softly kissed...
For the first time, we loved with a love that felt as if it were more than love...
