The Long Aftermath

i

he traveled half way to meet me, and that was a start. he took me to his favorite book store in town, where we window-shopped over art books, drown ourselves in pretty book covers, discussed a theory about a cross-universe that should exist between the comics we grew up with, and argued on which, between harry potter and the wonderful world of ghibli, would make a better bed time story.

ii

we wandered around the city, losing sense of direction as we continued to laugh at the jokes we brought upon ourselves, our lives, and the people in it. then we just sat down, underneath a giant tree which name remains unknown for the both of us -it might have been an oak- observing the entire world as they continued to move, arrhythmical, but affecting one another, interestingly.

iii

I've always dreamed of a mindless dance in the middle of a busy town, exposed, yet feeling secluded at the same time, with no music accompanying but off tune hums of an old song my parents might have danced to. it was almost as if he could read pass my eyes and into my mind, he found the old dying thought somewhere in between my brain cells and decided to let me have it my way.

iv

there hasn't been any talk about the animals we'd want to be reborn as if we were given the chance to, or about the famous people whose actions and personalities changed the world for the better -those we'd love to meet- or the nightmares that follow us around even when we're awake, a part of our childhood that grows up together with us, darker than our own shadows.

v

but then again, most of the times, I don't even know if I want to know him better than I did you, nor I want him to read me better than you did me.

vi

"read me your poems," you said.

"I want to know how you feel when you wrote those words," you said. if only I knew that my nakedness would scare you away, I wouldn't say yes to that one damn request.

vii
trust me, love. I've tried. but liability is one loyal friend of mine, and it prefers having me suffer over the memories of you. so no, as much as I want, and have been trying to, this is not about him. yet