wispy-blue

dear love, many many years ago, i sat there with you in the garden outside your house. furtively pining over you, i was tongue-tied, starry-eyed, all ears, awe-struck. i think about the small scar on your forehead. i’ll never know how you got it. i remember you saying you were on (lead) vocals/guitar in your school band. i still recall you telling me how some guy knocked up the girl you were dating. nights like now, i wish i had lightly placed my lips on your little forehead scar; i wish i had boldly asked you to take me to your campus on one of your gigs; i wish i were not inarticulate/insensitive and asked you how you were feeling. furtively pining over you, i was tongue-tied, starry-eyed, all ears, awe-struck. ©️10 October 2023

DeviantArt is as dead as any other place so it should be fine to write from the heart. Hollow words like mine will be met with similar silence - cold, weary, dry. What seems to matter at this moment is to get things off this chest as if we were screaming without sound, pouring our murky thoughts onto that someone again who would never, not in a million years, get it. No one gets it. Binaries. Affluent/Impoverished. Happy/Sad. Here/There. Presence/Absence. Now/Then. I have been figuring out tons and this time, I’m sure of at least one thing. Where I come from, In the binary of loved/unloved, we have been unloved since I can remember. People don’t hate on us; love just isn’t there. All the efforts to reach out were a waste of time, really. Sad to say but they were. Starving souls such as ours expected warmth in return . Oh how hurt we were every single time. Every letdown. Two people in my life, eighteen years apart, broke me on the same day. Hence, my birthdays