Have you ever seen Dracula by your own eyes! His red blood eyes, a vampire with milky white skin. His tooth are beautiful and abnormal. Have you ever wondered infront of the mirror that what's the difference. Is it only the length of the overgrown tooth. Or is it the skin color. Yet something inside is still same. It's beneath the skin hidden in the mid-chest of yours. It's the urge to rebel.
Everytime you have a bottle of beer to gulp up. Why you hide it under the table! Why didn't you leave it there on the table. Like everyone else. You should've tried it once. You should've tried to be normal.
Did you cook every meal of yours without a overburnt stain on the vegetables. Why didn't you try to peel it off it's skin. Maybe the taste would still convey the carelessness but still no body could've seen it from above.
You confine into the shadows and shy from the crowd. Yet you always showed the different colors of your sweat in the public. You must learn to be sublime. You must learn to hide.
I've never enjoyed anything more than the rising Sun, yet it's been a while I saw it there, slowly coming out of the horizon, after radiating some of it's light before, like whispering to the birds of it's arrival. I used to be there, always welcoming the Sun. I gave up. I gave it to the life. I gave it to the darkness.
I've never been more happier than my father calling me to roam around the town in the evenings with him. I admit I was a child then and my world was very little. I realised after many years that I'll never be that happy again. I lost it to the tiking of the clock. I tried it to stop though.
I don't remember anything tasting better than the cake my mother baked for me. I've tried many things better after that. I thought they tasted better than the cake. But I don't remember how they taste. They fade away unlike the cake.
I've always looked for the times I lost, those behind the sacred place of the colony or beside my mother while we slept together, I remember to be lost in places I can't gather no more. All I can do is stare at the same ceiling and write about it.
Yesterday it was just another summer noon. I remember the last year and years long gone before. You always blushed when I talked about the smile on your face. Always the summer dropping from your cheeks. I wondered how and the years went by.
I always wanted to make you smile on the rising Sun. It felt warmer. I wanted you to smile on the setting one. I never wanted you to know how beautiful you're. I didn't want you to admire yourself more than this world. I was selfish but you were happy.
Narcissism is a slowly seeping poison which makes you feel immortal. It keeps you assured. It ages you. It dives in you till you see each part of yours fading with time. I didn't want you to be aware of yourself more than the rains. I loved you.
And the rains today broke the illusion. I remember the last year again and the years before. I remember the pious dreams you saw in the droplets. I saw you through each one. I loved your skin but with the rains on it, it felt like a glitch of sorrow trippin' inside my head. Sorrow can be satisfying. Sorrows always bring you consciousness. I kept on loving you.
I wait for the winters. I know we will grow old soon. So I always kept on loving this world more than you for it won't fade with us.
But you know, I would always mourn. That my world won't be beautiful without you. I know it will never be the same.
There's a firefly in my room. I watch her chasing an escape to find her way out of my room. She doubts my distracted sleep . She says, " I am not chasing a way out, you moron, haven't you seen a firefly dancing before ? It's just you are a pessimist." I say, "Yes I am. It keeps me away from being envious." She stares in pity. I stare back in distress.
There's a rhyming scheme she follows. I watch her with a frightful clutch. She says, "What's so unpleasant in my dance ?" I say, "No there isn't any but the scheme you are following is the one that once has made me stumble . She laughs, " There's nothing to worry about. Falling is what helps us to rise. " I smirk, " I'm a bedridden lover since my first fall. " She stares in pity. I stare back in distress.
There's a huge ceiling fan running. I watch her with a frightened breathe. She says, " Look your fan seems like a merry-go-round. I won't mind taking a ride." She leaps before I warn, " No that's like the similar whirlpool I have drowned into. It seems so pleasant until you leap, but death is all it has to gift to any breathing mortal." She stares in death. I stare back at death.
It's childish how I lay my tongue out to taste the rain when the drops hesitate to sit on pores but prefer gliding down my cheeks. They remind me of something that a child won't know. It's never the flaw of raindrops but a pre-defined passage on my cheeks. For days when tears agreed to follow routines , my jawline has been a salvation. There's no fault of raindrops 'cause tributaries are bound to meet the river. They follow a similar pattern as tears do, not to satire soothe with pain but to poke an early ache.
I play the same song that made me cry last night. They sound like words I don't like but often hear just to practise a smile the next time I hear them in a sentence. Humans are weird. They remember stuffs that has hurt them more than the ones that made them laugh , feel loved. I'm a human too. I like to wear masks too, not always to bluff but to hide my weaker self. Yes, 'cause when you are demonstrative, your words are valued more than you and when you aren't, nothing is.
People are recalled in their absence. Sometimes I feel like being absent at certain places where I want people to miss me but it's too demanding. Also I'll scratch the same wounds by not visiting places I love to visit only to love. Being loved and loving someone are two distinct needles of the same string where the latter is less sharp and pleasing. The string measures limit. A limit to all the things I think is pleasing but this limit tends to end at a place my vision can't reach. I won't say it's eternal 'cause I want to be a bit realistic and leave things to be claimed by not mere humans but time.