The Idea Of You | On Hold

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i was always fascinated by the idea of you. about you being the only closest thing to perfection i ever came across. and everything about you was so unique yet eloquent that i always felt i could never have enough of you.

like the way you used to look at me. i wish i could recall the colors of your eyes, for i could never help but feel dizzy at the thought of your eyes on mine. and the way your heart felt while i rested my head on your chest, always took me back to our first kiss, and me snuggling up to you as 'with or without you' played in the background.

i remember you trying to make me dance, while i was too embarrassed to even move my feet. and you playing your ukulele for me. and me just being there. with you. with your voice doing somersaults in my mind, for i never could get enough of that heavenly feeling.

like the idea of waking up beside you someday, drunk on your sleepy voice and bedhead. and i'll just leave that part to my imagination, for your memories still haunt me, and i'd rather drown in them than make new ones in my head.

yet somehow i find it so hard to talk to you these days. for i know i'll be in too much of a mess to even blurt out a sentence. or maybe it's the thought that i already lost you. for i'm always a second too late.

and babe, you don't look at me the same.

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