Tida

Only you remain perfect.

Moment by moment

Our lifetime goes on

—

The sound of raindrops on the window paused time, slowing down everything in front of me. I pressed my hand against the glass, the chill felt through me, but the cold was from myself.

These hands of mine traced gently on your skin, the heartbeat on the tips of my fingers, drawing single outlines of your figure. Warmth and pounding. Each touch I could remember every curve and detail of you.

At times I could take control the weight of my hands, like a feather, like a touch of melting snow. Yet they carried what I had been through. Wounds and pains, they’re too heavy, too important that I couldn’t let go.

I never noticed that these two hands had learned their own ways, collected their own memories within me. They got used to do things and assisted me in getting things right. It was me who pretended to be absent-minded and let them lead and do what I’ve been too afraid to take.

When I realized my hands already trembled when I needed them to be steady, the cold shadow from the back of my memories froze and disjointed them from my heart.

My hands are my heart, they expressed words when I couldn’t say, and wiped away tears. My hands, you let go, pushed away and reached out. The hands we held we promised wouldn’t let them go.

Twenty seven seconds

The butterfly has flown away

and my heart has gone with it

In this desolate, long night

Silence is a reason, it’s where you go

So out of time, things that move this way