crafting paper planes

three

to the art,

we couldn't see

to the music,

we couldn't hear

to the feelings we couldn't feel

i'm writing letters to you hoping one day i'll witness all of this; because my heart aches. it crumples down, twisted with the truth of leaving this earth before we witness it all.

i couldn't hear how penguins talk or see how auroras look like in real. my questions still hung with metal clips inside my mind getting rusted with sadness all along its way. are they like paintings painted on the sky as its canvas, its each brush stroke completing a vivid color forming the art i couldn't picture?

i couldn't hear my little sister play her piano. this unheard music eating me away with hollowness. its each bite reminding me how each day she,ll say" i'll show you tomorrow". leaving her each note unheard, unfelt behind her sobs and memories.

i couldn't feel how peace in busy city feels like. is it the hustling noise of cars and the newborn sunrise from my hinged window or is it mr. andrew exchanging newspaper every morning? is the cafe near my workplace really peaceful or is it just me trying to live my 20s pretending i'm so fine and settled?

but before i see, hear, feel all of this, i'll be gone; 

long gone among those very aurora skies i couldn't see, gone when my little sister still has her piano note to present to me, i'll be far away swirling in its tune while she plays it for the first time in front of our kindergarten photo. i'll be gone when mr. andrew still has newspaper to exchange but no one to discuss it.

i'll be long gone.

a/n:

how tragic it is that there will always be more art for us to see and we'll leave this place before we feel it all. this was a mere poetic presentation of a girl leaving in her late teens, feeling the utmost sadness of not being a witness of all the art the universe saved for her. and how even more tragic it is that some of us want to leave this earth while she is craving to come back.