i was most sorry (and thankful) i am

credit to pinterest.

Back to the late pink-spring walk while the night is warm. You were drunkenly babbling around as to your hand hardly holding my arm. You said, “Damn cursed that man, he doesn’t deserve you at all,” and there was me laughing off of you because I know you shouldn’t be the one who’s drunk.

The quiet wide street feels as if it’s long and sleep. We sat in the bust stop fully knowing there wouldn’t be anymore bus coming. Everything and everyone in this neighborhood is safely humming. Symphonizing the drowning cherry blossoms and the soft wind that marks the beginning of spring. That when I feel my breath is finally filled my lungs in.

It was such a slow wait till you a bit more sober that I let my mind fly and wander. I wonder if the life we live was a less harder. I wonder if we may not starve and give too much of us for the sake of life that’s kinder. I wonder if it’s possible for us to stop running along the time that everyday gets faster — just because we weren’t so sure. I’d look for myself in the mirror and ask her, “Was to have, and live a life that feels light and less cruel a mere delusion I would never?” but she’d remain in such stillness that made me hate her later.

If anything, you may look inside my head and find too many wonders I later buried just as it is. They were buried and layered along so-too-many what ifs I’d rather stopped to wish. Those wonders, as well as what ifs were once fulfilled my well-made cupboard to the point they no longer fit. Then I know they might explode and break the box that I realized I should just stop bringing it.

Maybe this just is; the life that’s sometimes being too cruel that I need to live once and once again ever since. Maybe this just is; the life of dehydrated hearts of love and however, full by starving of one genuine love people that I need to stay still in a little bit longer.

I was sighing, the hard one, when I felt your grown-fast soft brown hair on me. I stunned as then I heard you’re murmuring a thing, as slow as whispering low one that I could not quite tell what was that you’re saying.

“I’m sorry …” And that was the loudest I’d heard.

“Sorry for what?”

“I didn’t mean to curse at you, It’s that, later I was just so furious … I’m sorry …” I can’t help but to giggling at your raspy yet genuinely voice saying sorry. By just that I can tell you meant it all; what you and you’ll say already.

“Now, what again is that sorry for?” I asked jokingly even when I deep down really wanted to know what for was that sorry. But, guess you’re too drunk and sleepy because I can’t hear one more single thing you’d say to answer me.

And I was about to lay back your head to the bus stop’s pole when you suddenly made up your position. Hands crossing above your chest as your head — for more comfortably — laid down on my right shoulder. It was still your raspy — half drunk half sleepy — that I heard later; “Just for a while, let me stay still in this position.”

Not knowing whether I was too stunned by your very-sudden-action or just I know that your sentences weren’t yet done, but, too, for a while, I remained in silence.

“I’m sorry … that to you, life is always being cruel and crueler. I’m sorry that life is continuously making you feel like dying and numb after. I’m sorry that you have met many shitty creatures — what I meant were your exes, your bosses, or your ex bosses,” I can’t manage to hold my laugh off and maybe that’s why you’re holding a gap to stop.

“But, mostly I’m sorry, I’m sorry that there’s nothing I can do to make your life easier or, at least a lesser cruel. Though, I’d promise you one thing just as ever: that if your heart feels like craving love that’s kind and pure, I’ll have it with me and you may take and have it, just whenever.” Just as that you left me sitting in a still. You might now fell to your dreams and I feel like I might be sinking. You will never be the one to feel sorry for. But, oh, I don’t think you’d understand; I was always most sorry I am.

I’m sorry that you have to go through anything bad because of me. I’m sorry that the universe is bad enough that it puts your fate across me and there are more you’ll need to carry. But, mostly I’m sorry, I’m sorry that your kindest, and purest love is a thing that I always feel too scared to have and hold it onto me.

Counting down the drowning petals of the Cherry Blossoms, it is now the midst of the radiant pink spring season. Weeks and months passed by ups and downs, also more of losts and founds. The wounds might be nowhere to be found but the hurts of it would sit still in the same corner and not walk into anywho around. Even after all kinds of bandaids and medicines, they weren’t yet mend because it isn’t true that time, too would help it get better.

“Now, you choose, whether you’ll eat that ice cream or you’ll let it be all over your pretty hand.” I turned my head to the other side. To later find your all over — from head to toe — in such still perfectly shaped. You were always as fine as ever; those gleaming brown eyes that always speak for what it’s really mean, those plump pink lips that most of the time do sharing jokes and laughs that I’d forever want to listen.

“Woah, so you’re now choosing to frankly admire my gorgeous face, ma’am?” Your squinting eyes are growing narrower because I didn’t say anything and left in intentionally silence. And that one sided-lift eyebrow of yours making me seriously can’t hold off my laugh anymore and ever since.

The neighborhood is just as same as two years ago when both of us happened to stay in because you’re too drunk to even get to standing still. It feels like the sleepy town where everyone is already at their home by the time after the dusk because the atmosphere around it tends to be chill. It is where you could easily listen to the flies’ soft hummings. Such a finest place to celebrate the night of warmth spring along a cup of ice cream.

“I can’t believe we’re here this year too,” I said leisurely after a single long deep sigh, the easy one this time. Then I heard you giggling like a bird’s chime.

“What do you mean? It’s our trice this year. We always have to be here every time the blossoms are massively blooming, even if the first time we do was just a particularly unintentional thing.” You lean your back on the bench, eyes looking above the trees, thoroughly enjoying the slowly drowning petals of the blossoms. It’s weird because by my current point of view, you look so enchantingly beautiful that I can’t even manage how to stop staring at you.

“So what is that your brain saying about my well-being? Am I handsome? Or do I look so freaking cool today too?” I know you teased me jokingly, but instead of being annoyed, I strangely find that you are the one I’m now smiling at.

“It says thank you.” I was smiling when I said it too.

“Thank you for what?” You leaned closer and asked too carefully. Your question was said so slowly and feels so full of careness, it’s as if that you’re scared you might hurt me in anyway even if it’s a mere incidentally.

“It says thank you for the love that’s never been just a love. It says thank you for the kind and genuine love that mends my broken heart and shows it how to be soft. It says thank you for the love that’s stable and already settled that I’d find it so easily and no longer made me feel scared of. It says thank you for the tenderness and patience, either it’s the love’s or it’s yours, that I think be the main reason we would through it all and find us in today too.”

Your warm hand then looking for mine. Holding my warm palm and hold it close to your nose that later I could feel your soft and light kisses. “Were all of these sentences built as the mere “I love you” replacers?” Because I could feel it.”

“I could feel it already: the love you’re — sooner or later — going to show to me. And of course, my love, it’s all my pleasure to give you the kind and genuine, the patient and tender, even the stable and settled kind of love. And I too, thank you. Thank you so much for acknowledging and receiving the love I presented to you.”

I nod and lastly say, “Yes, yes you may be thankful so much, but I’d still be thankful the most. I love you, I meant it, and here I stance I’ll now take and have your love with me. By now, I’ll be the one carrying it along.”