grub + travels + perspectives

Walking On Eggshells

Once upon a time, there was a boy who held my heart. The memory of how he possessed it is already so distant and fuzzy, but I knew it didn't start with the most intelligent conversations, or silent stares, or uncomfortable pauses, or coaxing, or fluttering, irregular heartbeats. He had it for so long, it almost resembled infinity. The promise of 'better' was always just a promise. And I had so much faith in him, he was almost my religion.

Once upon a time, there was another boy who stole my heart. My heart still belonged to someone else but he managed to creep in, slowly filling my arteries, until my heart can only pump nothing but thoughts of him. The promise of 'better' was not just a promise but a reality. But I always knew that he could never ever hold my heart because he was too afraid. But I had so much faith in him, I believed I would win this otherwise losing game.

Once upon a time, I had to leave it all behind. And I did.

And now, there is another boy that I always dream about. He only appears in between those moments when I catch forty winks. He floods my subconscious with pleasant things but he's nothing but a vague memory when I wake up, his mumbled lullabies resonate in my ears. And as a friend once told me, "We could always dream of other dreams."

He exists only within a song. He takes form at the first beat of the instrument, moves along with the words, pierces my heart with subtleties and disappears as an echo in my head. He's nothing but embers slowly dissipating and metaphors and hushes and shushes.

He comes alive as a secret.
He's tangible but volatile.
He's an ephemeral addiction.

'And when the alarm wakes me from my dream,
I seem to lose all that compliments your silhouette.'