Kalopsia : A Collection Of Short Poems And Vignettes

Of Parks, February 4th and Him

Sadness and regret gnaw at my heart everytime I think of February 4th. I wonder how I could so foolishly trust someone I knew was going to break my heart.

"I trusted him. I thought that with time, he would change. Become better."

Hope, I believe, is a lot like love. It has the power to both create and destroy. After all, vain love is still love and vain hope is still hope.

I sit on the only empty bench in the park. I swing my feet and look up at the sky. It's beautiful in a way I'll never be. It's peaceful, in a way my life hasn't been for a very long time and yet I wish it was.

"What is the meaning of having a heart if it's never been broken?"

The boy I like is very observant in nature, to the point that it's scary at times. I wish i knew him earlier. But then all things happen how and when they are meant to be. I wonder what I might've done to deserve this.

"I want to live. I'm tired of surviving."

I wish I wasn't me sometimes. Trapped in this body with my heart caged by my ribs. I wish I was a bird. Flying high up in the sky or among the clouds, with not a care in the world. I wish I wasn't a mere nobody, barely surviving while making a series of questionable life choices. I wish I was free.

"You pretend to be happy on the outside but I know you are hiding some sort of pain inside your heart." 

The first time someone even acknowledges my pain and isn't afraid to confront me about it, it's him. The person I least expect it to be. When one is used to observing people their entire life, one often forgets how it feels to be observed in return. To feel seen for the first time, to feel so exposed to the storm happening inside your own heart. It's both beautiful and dangerous.

"You can tell me. Your secret is safe with me. Trust me."

The boy I like asks me about my past. This time, I tell him. In return, he tells me about his. I don't tell him that I knew about his story for quite some time now; he doesn't tell me that he knew about the first half of mine too.

It's ironic how both our lives changed on the very same day. February 4th. The boy who claimed to like me for two months, ruined my life in two minutes; the girl he loved for three years couldn't even love him for one. It broke us in a way I didn't think I was capable of breaking.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

I visit the park again. It's midnight and the park is completely empty. It's all so surreal how the very place that is too crowded in the daytime in all it's noisy and chaotic glory, is also the same place that's so peaceful and silent in the dead of the night. I sit on the soft wet grass. I look up at the moon  and smile to myself. She looks at me and seems to shine just a bit brighter.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

The boy I like is very understanding and mature in a way that most boys aren't. He reminds me of myself at times. I wonder what he had to go through to become as mature as he is. Our pasts no matter how different, have one thing in common. Betrayal. Betrayal of the person we chose to trust. It's pitiful really. Just like our entire existence at this point.

"Do you believe in love?"

I realised that before I knew him, like really knew him, I was drowning in a pool. Loving him feels a lot like floating in the pool. Not swimming, no, but floating, with my body feeling lighter than it actually is, and a sense of calm filling my mind while the world outside is a raging fire. 

"The difference between loving someone and being loved is similar to watching someone while the moon braids their hair and watching them while they braid yours."

I visit the park again. This time, not alone, but with him. We sit under a tree and he hands me the bottle of lemonade that his mother made for us as we enjoy the serene view of the sunset. We don't talk much. We don't have to; because sometimes the silence between us is more comforting than the words ever could be.

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