These kisses felt like you love me again
I wish it could stay at this time forever,
this mid night mid morning tired feeling.
I am fine with my head guiding me instead of my heart. When it comes to myself, I would rather not feel, for the fear of feeling too much.
Sometimes you go down the hall and your hearing goes numb, time slows down and you are walking there alone with your thoughts by your side, keeping up the dialogue with yourself. You pass by strangers, pretending like you can see their thoughts walking beside them as well, as they embrace their owners all around, and you begin to observe the aura of their beings. You continue walking down the hall, hearing and seeing everyone, and yet never knowing for sure whether to believe it. Whether they actually exist or just a trickery of the mind, creating shapes and colors under particular angles, the lights playing with shadows. One day you meet and get close to them. One of them. One of the strangers. You walk with them and their thoughts, you start hearing them more clearly, their voices coming from within. You are listening. And yet, you still can never know what it is that you are hearing. Whether at any point those thoughts intertwined with yours and became one. You feel it, but you do not know for sure. Then the more intense trickery begins and turns into memories - thoughts with feelings attached to them, that can be as easily forgotten as they can be triggered. It is a strange type of illusion. One that can bring up emotive images and place them right in front of your eyes, illuminating you with warmth and pain at once, it’s strong force enabling you to focus on anything else at times, that you wish you could set them on fire and watch the ashes accumulate into mountains of collected times. But the memories that are shared are different. They are fragile and even more untouchable. Sometimes you sit down and wonder whether you can still hear them breathing through a wall. Too afraid to shake them, too afraid to know whether they are still one. Do they feel the same? You can sit by the wall, and listen carefully to the dull echoes and you will never know. All could be a trickery of the mind. The warmth and happiness that was felt in the right amounts at the right time. Not something that you wish to have more of but something that is special enough to be cherished. But all it is is just thoughts that keep dialogue with yourself. You are just another stranger, he is just another stranger, and so is she. You walk and go your own ways, sometimes colliding and breaking away. Acknowledging each others’ presence and yet not ever knowing if they are there. If you are there. If there is anything to listen to or for.