i breathe lifetimes | vkook

2016

O1 september .

     A poet once wrote: love leads to impairment. But was it not love that lead a mother to bear her child, love that moved the child to pluck the daisy and offer it to a friend, love that caused the friend to whisper his boyish wishes into his schoolmate's ear, love that bred this schoolmate's ambition and built him into an artist, love that compelled the artist to retrieve the old typewriter tucked beneath an enormous mound of laundry and write about how blinded he had been because he'd allowed his heart to see for him, to sense the world for him, instead?

     My... How fast the years flew by...

     This morning I caught myself tearing up in front of the mirror, with my fingers hooked onto the edge of the sink growing cold, wondering why I'd been chosen to know everything yet, still feel ashamed? With this face looking back at me, how could I take no pride in myself? You would only laugh if I told you. But, as it had always been and shall remain, with you I'll take any form of happiness no matter how nimble or feeble it may be. It is because my life obsesses over remembrance – a torturous gift which cycles your words and warmth.

     I am no god, for if I was I'd never allow you to shed another tear soiled with sorrow. I am a simple man with simple wishes, too. I daydream about your lullabies and my fingers threading your hair. I laugh when you pull humor, I blush when you seek me in specific, I cry when you do. And I wish I could die along with you.

     My judgment often looked pass the fact that I may never live as long as I opt to or that you will never appear to me as a misty body; you are continuously crisp like crystal ocean photography. But today the chimes sang hymns for me with perfectly timed crescendos and you walked towards me, bare-foot and starry-eyed, and I felt the weight of reality drop on my shoulders, crushing me until my ribs caved in. Though I always believed we were born from the same star matter, one notion often dogged me, that you were a universe all on your own and that I was merely a speck; an etiolated twinkle which burned out by the third summer.

     We all are bound to the crippling reality which awaits us at each tick and tock. But right then and there, I had to refuse it. I almost could not stomach it. 

     I couldn't move along. I didn't want to die and keep dying and keep feeling alone. I didn't want to see you again and know everything which had transpired between us but have you look at me as if I was paper-thin. I couldn't keep asking for your name because it will be the only thing engrained in my brain. You. Dammit, it's you.

     You're everything and absolutely everything to me and you don't even realize it yet. Did I ever matter to you as much as I wish I did? I cannot believe that after all this time, it only hit me now. If I stopped aging, at least have us both remain youthful in each other's arm. If you die, then I hope you take me with you. But if I die today, I hope it would be my last.

     Yesterday, I heard you singing to a tune from an old jukebox we found downtown. You managed to skip a few verses and mumble a few lyrics in guise of unfamiliarity but I didn't mind. It ended not much how I remembered it; with your apology following after the bridge and my chuckle filling the instrumental which should have taken place right after. I lacked the courage to ask you but you beat me to it. 

     want something? A smile would be fine, thank you.

     You made us some tea.

     I am not a peppermint kind of guy but since you'd prepared it, I accepted it anyways. You're unfair. Of course, how stupid of me. I have no complaints. You're all that I have.

     it's really chilly today, ain't it? Kind of, it was.

     You twisted and turned on your seat. I couldn't be so sure of myself or the reason why you looked so nervous. Did I do that? I apologize. Was I being too firm? I can be better. Did I look intimidating? I promise, this is how I normally am. 

    All the years gone like lightning. 

     i think I don't ever wanna grow up. And I don't ever wanna leave your side. Was that too blunt?

     It must've been around 3 AM when I realized I wasn't cut-out for poetry or an obsession. All I wanted was to sway along to old records and make love on cool sheets. To take no hostages, to leave no leaf unturned. I crave the heat of the burnt end of a cigarette against my skin, so I could know how human I am, know if someone who'd gambled with God without knowing could feel the pain of existence as it tore through his flesh.

     There is so much left I have to tell you. How the hours always feel like eons without you and how my favorite kind of coffee just doesn't taste the same anymore. I want to take you to as many festivals as I can name, marry you in every cathedral on the map, paint you every image which your mind could conjure, sing you every love song, dance with you, music or no music. I will memorize the spectrum in your eyes and your fragrance.

     I no longer want to live if I cannot write to you anymore. I no longer wish to read bitter romance if I, too, should write my own.

     I'd always denoted you differently and it was a bad mistake. A flower you were to a lingering man's eyes, but you're far more beautiful than any. It must've been the reason why you could only breathe for so long. Because I breathed them all, every lifetime you'd ever had. But each season you bloomed, you were gone as quickly as I had found you.

     So for now, I'll keep you this way. I shall never pluck another one of your petals again. And I hope you reach as high as the heavens before you finally ascend to it. Keep me for now, instead.

    Keep me with you until the very end.

—kth.