Yewlah

Maybe it is the wind that whirling around your dark brown hair,

or the jawline; clear as it is.

The wrinkles, the scars,

or the art part: the eyes.

The smell, the jokes, the songs; we once had it all shared in one Friday night, as we were on a car ride, 

doing nothing, just the two of us, with the city lights followed.

The way you struggled to pick words, to break the silence, on another ride,

or the way I looked at you and you keep it cool;

I painted you clear across the corner where we once had a late lunch,

and the place I had to wait for you to pick me up,

and the songs we once ruined the rhythm, only to create laugh on one another.

You are still there.

I was blocked.

I was blocked by the thought of how everything supposed to be going as expected.

I was blocked by the thought of how one’s love is measured by one’s effort.

I was blocked by the thought of how one should be going the other way; a regret.

I was blocked by the thought of how people would think of me as they draw a picture in their head; what were they thinking?

I was blocked by the thought of one’s hand holding mine means he truly believes in us. Looks like I did not notice other possibilities?

I was blocked by the thought of everything would go as smooth as I planned them at the beginning.

I was blocked by the thought of my own idealism, in way of life, places I had to go to, people I interact with, the things I believe.

I was blocked by the thought of negativity of social media, of people and their pleasures.

I was blocked by the thought of how joy supposed to be. I admit I am very, very close minded about this.

I was blocked by the time I had this to finish, I am still having the thought of it all.

I finally meet an old friend, Failure.

I was too overwhelmed with Joy, I fancy Satisfaction.

I be friended with Winning, I fell hard for Glory.

Until I met him, Failure, at the intersection of my 22nd.

I glanced. I hesitated. 

I used to be his close one, we headed towards what was coming, side to side.

Up to two years backward, I, without saying a single goodbye, left him be.

I forgot that he existed.

He saw me, he hugged. “Old ones never leave without mark.”

It is true.

How I wish I could say a permanent goodbye to him.

i deeply thought about what might others think

what might happened

the possibilities of good feedback

what should have i done

all of these somehow become reign in my head

which i should take fully note:

i used to being so good at resisting tears

people won’t even notice the sorrow in the corner of my eyes

but as of today

i can’t stand to build another barrier