Footnotes

the first time you touched me

The first time you touched me, a warm wave of electricity cursed from my nerve endings to my heart, and I swore from that day on you held my heart, unwillingly, unknowingly. We talked bits, and buts, about the job and rules. But it was conversation that lulled me down to this earth. You see, my head is always on the clouds, daydreaming and often lacking sleep thanks to the paranoia-inducing insomnia that kills my will to live. Before you, I wanted to cease my existence. Live or die were the same after a few dreadful years and a series of misfortunes. But the moment your eyes lit up with a silly pun I did, I knew I was gone. I knew there was no coming back from this, no escape, no feasible paradox to fix what you made my heart feel. Not that I remotely wanted to discover one, because you hold my heart so preciously in your hands, so delicately, that it feels like the rotten black spots,that poison had eaten away, have started to regenerate. Our conversations are crammed with lingering touches and constant glances. How your laughter rings and echoes through my thoughts makes me a firm believer of angels on earth, and you are mine. Your eyes hold a history I find myself wanting to submerge into. But at the same time, I know your trauma and eventful tragedies stop you from sharing it all. However that doesn't mean I'll be gone. I'm a tragically patient person when it comes to love, despite the fact that before you, I didn't have one of my own.