Cherry Blossoms

 I supposed when it’s all over, the memories just come back in flashes. Like a million pictures vividly imprinted into my mind.

    I remember the long stares when I sat at the back of your truck, listening to a Greenday song that was humming from the radio. That was the first time I looked closely to the brown orbs I’ve come to adore even though you said they were too ordinary.

   No, they weren’t. Because while you were certain you were plain and dull and average, that was then when I realized how those eyes could pull me in, like the waves crashing in shore.

    I remember how you laugh; lips quivering at the seams, like a ray of sunshine after a tragic storm, blissful and potent enough to cause the tiny bit of butterflies fluttering in my rib cage. I loved how it bubbles from within you blissfully unaware of everything around you as you throw your head back on my stupid punch lines.

    I remember how you held my hand for the first time; when I cried for the days I feel burnt out, when I was a jittery mess for weeks, hanging loosely on the hope that, maybe, just maybe, everything will be fine. You told me to breathe and to hold on a little more – even when I don’t exactly know how.

   I remember how you held me tight that one time on a winter night. The cold was seeping through my bones, empty and devoid of life just as I am. But the friction of us made it easier for me to forget, to heal, to redeem. I lost myself in the Evergreen scent that clung to your shirt – as if it was made to be there, and by then, I decided it was too late. I already surrendered to the fact that I loved every bit of you. Even when your careful eyes told me not to.

  I remember the way you looked in your plaid pyjamas; when you curled up next to me as the sounds of the pelting rain echoed through the empty room. You said that you loved being cocooned in the soft lullabies of the storm. And while I loved the summer breeze and the scorching heat, I knew a part of me agreed that even the thunderous storms can be beautiful too.

   You just smiled. As if you knew.

   I remember how you kissed me for the first time; the way my name grazed your lips, the soft and sweet taste of you lingering on every crevice of my own. You weren’t perfect, just like how I wanted it to be. But the moment your eyes locked with mine, I knew that I was falling straight into your gravity.

    I remember the night you said goodbye. You walked me into my door that late night we went driving for miles, wandering through the empty highways with our hearts on our sleeves and your laugh echoing through my chest. You smiled wistfully at me, tucking my loose curls behind my ears, before leaving without a glance back.

    And I realized, as my heart hit rock bottom, that as you ran away, you left with a part of me too.

    You orbited around me, for one quick moment, before you went your own way. Because that’s who you are. Because that’s what we should be.

   You weren’t supposed to be a part of me; you were a rogue, the air of uncertainty ever lingering on your sad smiles and cryptic words, you were just a momentary flicker of light in the pitch black storm. You left with a trail of mosaic broken hearts in your wake, mine being one of them; never looking back, never knowing why.

    Our love was like the cherry blossoms floundering in the spring, so beautiful and so enigmatic, but not entirely enough to keep you from the glaring winter.

   And the worst part was not about you leaving.

  It was me stupidly believing. 


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