for you

dedicated to anni

within a garden full of sunflowers, you had asked him once, how do we love? as your gaze trailed to the withered brown petals, your fingertips brushed against the yellowed leaves, and your skin met the cold air of pre-dusk time.

everything ended before your eyes, and it would all come in full circle once the dawn emerged. but, how do we love? you asked again, with hope that he could provide you with a definite answer of when would your nightfall start and your daybreak arise. thinking you could prepare, thinking time existed for you to manipulate.

you loved with your eyes wide open, seeing every sign of the universe, making sense out of everything. his brazen confidence was a byproduct of your offered solace. he saw through you and the love that you sowed. he remembered; he would take the memory a thousand years ahead, even when he leaped through time and transcended to another dimension.

you loved with no promises of tomorrow, so you made the most out of everything you could on that day. days were a life happened in repeat. life was a story reiterated. a story was a conversation listened. and he listened, every single brand new day. living vicariously through yesterdays, he held your hand as the sun was up.

you loved with your hearts flailing effortlessly, for he said that nobody would take this away from you. he said, so let's wear it on our sleeves. he said, i will show you how, and perhaps this could be the start of something. so, you learned. you learned with five steps made. you learned recklessly with your knees bled through your jeans and your elbows scraped slightly. isn't it liberating, he asked, to be able to love so fearlessly?

you loved without the fear of its ending, he professed, at last. you made a great fountain of history that ended this town's drought. birds were flocking, flowers were growing rapidly. we did not have anything to regret, he mumbled, we lived through it all undaunted. this part of life's greatest moments were yours, entirely.

so, you stopped asking, and held hands through this maze of garden instead.