yoursyd

The one reason why I've always loved to associate you with all the quiet places I've been to is that you gave me the same feelings. The same warmth, the same ease, also a few thrills down my spine as I realized that I've been too far away from home, yet at the same time I also found home in your presence.

You're also as beautifully strange as a person could ever be; your missing puzzle pieces and broken compass, the darkest void inside your eyes yet I can still see through them, and so I found your bravest trust in me.

But tell me, do you worry as I do?

As both our eyes meet each other and say hello, has my gaze ever made you think that someday I might stumble and lose my path?

As we hold hands, has my grip ever made you think that, someday, I might just let go?

And as I hold you close, was I supposed to feel those butterflies slowly knocking down my system? Or was I wrong to expect that you felt them too?

Because there were exactly two things that I'm the most scared of: shattering all the hopes you've always had in me, and falling for you too deep as a worse person I am compared to you.

Three days have passed since October ended, and for that long too I've been thinking to myself and came to a conclusion that I should just slowly let it sink in. Maybe I need to understand that I might not want you that way, or that I do, but I might be too scared to embrace all the feelings so they better remain unsaid.

I will just forget it and move on, right?

We sat under thousands of stars, but the questions in my head outnumbered them. Countless of what-ifs, heavy loads of concerns, and a handful of wishes I would rather not talk about simply because I thought they were complete nonsense. But as I counted the stars and got rid of each one of my bugging thoughts, I could smell the mixture of lemon and morning dew when you moved closer to rest your head on my shoulder.

And it got me summing up my thoughts into one simple question: If love does exist, what does it feel like?

Is it like feeling anxious the moment our pinkies brush off each other? Or is it like staring at anywhere else but into your eyes because I was too scared for no absolute reason?

Or maybe, is it like dying to know how would a kiss feel like? Is it just like right now, when I felt your fingers intertwining mine, and I couldn't think of anything else other than leaning in to gently put my lips onto yours?

Then there went another one: if love does exist, would you stay by my side to prove that this feeling would last forever?

Today, you came with many reasons to go when I just wanted you to stay. Today, you were as stubborn as you had never been.

So with not a single grit left to fight for us, can I at least beg you for the last time? Though I have never been, or could never be prepared of losing you, Nadhir, can I hug you once as if we are still ours to keep?

You have never nodded your head so unsure, yet you had both your fists loosen and your lips parted to reply with something that came out so breathless and voiceless: go on.

And finally I gave in to the vague, unusual scent of citrus and the choking reek of alcohol that I noticed as I pulled you closer; you had no Idea that the way you stood very still hurts me less than the absence of your lavender.

Because to me, lavender is a scent of going back home. Your embrace felt nothing like it, but I could just always pretend that it did with a name of perfume I have memorized for far too long.

I might have fallen for you despite those empty eyes and a troubled mind with thoughts you would never dare to share out loud. I might have wanted to make your reality a better place, like that small hut that we went to, and how you said you would've liked it more if there were drizzles and petrichor—I might have fallen for you as I promised myself to be every single drop of rain in your very own storm.

Or like that one particular evening when the sunset refused to be seen, hiding behind the gloomy skies. We got a whole list of love songs you said you couldn't relate to, playing through the earbuds we share on our longest bus ride home. I know I might have fallen quite hard when I wanted it all to make sense to you.

I might have fallen quite hard when I wanted to be the reason why you feel things. I might not be the butterfly parade in your stomach, but I hope I can at least be the vague sound of downpour on your roof tonight, bringing you peace as you are falling asleep, safe and sound.

-D.