Love, Pain & Poetry [✓]

T h r e e S y l l a b l e s

Every time someone calls you,
my rib cages pinch my heart to remind it to be still.
It somehow reacts like a go sign in a race.
Like there is something that needs to be done immediately.
A secret that I've longed to share but dying to keep.

Like a visible sound, jiggly and impossible to dodge.
It will hit you no matter what.
Then my whole body bounce in reflex.

As if your name need not to be thought of
because every tip of my fingers,
from the outer tunnel of my ears,
my body's tiny hairs,
know that it's you.

So I tried to look down,
as if I've done something wrong.

As if liking your name was a bad idea.

Although no one really cares,
I do because when someone calls you,
part of me wants to look back and maybe
whisper back the things that I want you to know.

And then I thought,
that was the bad idea.

Because even though my heart is quick,
it is weak.

It can't possibly contain a gigabyte when it's a kilobyte.

So I just glanced, every time someone would call you.
I glanced, as if it was enough to convey my feelings.
I glanced, as if it was enough for your reply.

Slowly, my confession was a hundred glance every day for a hundred days.
And boldly, I believed that it was good.

Better, even.

Because on one of those days,
you started to look back.

Your first glance was like fire that burned my whole face and neck.
My tiny body hairs stood up.
As if these judgmental follicles were pointing at my cheeks,
highlighting my embarrassment.
But these only indicates how miraculous and powerful my glances are.

So from the belief of the granted power from my initial plan,
I tried to look at you a little longer.

Still, my words were lacking.
How can I speak when it's you,
who sets my innards on a rampage,
my whole head aflame,
and everything around me into a halt?

But the belief of having to talk to you once was always a positive possibility to me.

Because you know,
if you only knew that this was how I felt back then,
would you even be here beside me tonight?

How your crazy-shy girlfriend was actually crazy enough,
in believing that her glances were suffice.

If not of your glances, where would we be?
Yes, yes I was crazy. But you were more of it.

You were bolder, not settling for less, not settling with glances.

So, I just want to thank you.
For being yourself.

For glancing when someone calls me.
As if my three-syllable name could kill you,
as your three-syllable does with me.