Words—
You choose to evade me in dire times. Other times, you come pouring out of my heart like the fountain Jet d’Eau, in excess and abundance. In times such as those, I sit on my wooden chair, giddy as a child on his birthday, and I write away with a grin on my face as I sip my ginger tea.
The times you evade me however, you leave me empty yet full with emotions. Heavy feelings with no source of outlet—no words to lift them off my weary heart onto a blank page. It is in times like this I long the most for someone to sit with me—to understand me, for you distance yourself from me.
You, the one with whom I use to navigate my thoughts.
You, the one I rely on to quiet my mind.
You choose to leave me deal with my worries myself. How cruel.
It is indeed in times like this I long for her the most.
The one who could see through me as though I was thin glass.
The one who would know me like I know the birthmark on my left palm.
The one whose smile could burn me to ashes, only to restore me from said ashes like a Phoenix rebirthed.
But now that she is a future yet to come, would you not return to me, Oh words.