I started writing a journal yesterday and I never once mentioned your name. You are the secret I keep even from my dear diary… I’ve talked to and about other people but your name is a sin… it’s the unspoken secret affair.
Everything changes when love enters the picture… along with heartache and groundless happiness. They are the best of friends!
At first it’s like… Opening your eyes to a garden full of flowers… mostly red roses and they sing in a whisper. Oh, how your voice always brings me joy!
A little time later it’s like… Pulling two ends of a string. Pulling, pulling and pulling to only break it. Never have I ever felt such a strong tension.
Some days it’s like… Waking up to a cloudy winter morning with a smile on.
When I’m alone it’s like… Looking out of the window every night into the empty porch.
When I’m lost it’s like… Searching for a familiar face in a crowd of strangers.
When everything is cold and bitter it’s like… Putting on gloves in autumn.
When I miss you it’s like… Suffocating by the dust of yesterdays and the glitter of tomorrows.
In the end it’s always like… Your voice echoing, “It’s not too late to start again”.
So I thought maybe, if I don’t mention your name, your reality will only stay in my day-dreams and I’ll only whisper your name when I’m alone.
All the right signs for all the wrong assumptions… I loved my dreams and memories more than I loved the idea of him at the time… Hope is an ugly word for someone who doesn’t believe in their past self being right about the one that got away…
What I needed wasn’t a confrontation… I really don’t need anybody’s second-hand worries. I just wanted what all the little girls wanted… love. Not the puppy kind but maybe I wouldn’t have said no to it at the time. Now I’m more into eternal kind… maybe it’s senseless but I guess it’s better to dream of being loved than being someone’s “last night’s hunt”.
On second thought I don’t “want” love, I’m asking for love… to be sensible and to fix all the broken hearts or just replace it with plastic flowers. Everything else dies eventually…
Let’s find our lavender mystery… I could almost hear you asking, “Is that a place?”… It’s actually a concept. You’d probably say, “How will we find a concept?” This is how:
You’ll take your van and I’ll take my pillows.
You’ll wait for me under the haunted willows.
If I’m late, wait at the gate.
We both know this is our fate.
This isn’t some escape, we’re going on a treasure hunt! What treasure you say? A treasure so precious… so important… four letters and one move on your lips… time! Time? Time is both precious and important! But it’s not it, is it?
Then… love? But I’m not too sure… Love is a concept indeed but is it worth chasing? I know what you’d say! That… not all love is worth chasing but… then I’d say it’s always worth writing about!
What could the treasure be? Life? Life itself is a treasure… but how can we go after something that we are already featuring in? For all I know life is chasing us! … with it’s limited time and surprises… we are the chased ones!
Blue has four letters… and blue is the color of the sky! Sky is limitless, therefore chasing it would be pretty tiring. But it is not a concept… unless if we give it a meaning… it is the color of lavender! … and lavenders are mysterious! How you say?
Lavenders are mysterious because they are like one-sided lovers… they live during drought… they are strong like women… they can go on with or without water and most of all they are beautiful and they don’t even know that….
Autumns were never your favorite. You hated the smell of dried leaves and I always loved crushing them under my feet. One time you mentioned how cinnamon on top of your coffee was the only thing you liked about autumn. You also kept reminding me that winter was your favorite season even though you had a very dry skin. Unlike my minor hate towards winter, you somehow made me not so hate it that year.
One winter morning we met for breakfast at our favorite brunch place. It was the first week of the snow fall and every table was occupied except the one in the corner. After we ordered our food you asked if I was free in the evening. When I gave you a puzzled look you simply said you had tickets to the festival. I laughed because I haven’t seen you smiling like that before.
We agreed on meeting near the ferris wheel. You were late. I was half worried about you and half angry at you because the weather was freezing cold. I was leaving when I saw you walking towards me with a bouquet of flowers.Daffodils… I haven’t seen you nervous like that before. The way you were searching for words were worth writing about. You said that the daffodils were for making me wait and that this was the last time that I’d wait ever again. I really wanted to believe like I didn’t believe the view up from the ferris wheel.
In the summer you said you had big news. We met near the library. Your eyes were shining with happiness and I was getting more curious by the minute. I still wish you never said those words… the words were big like the news itself… so big it crushed my heart… you were leaving… you were moving to another continent… at the time I was being selfish but I couldn’t help. We were so close and distances were threatening our so-called companionship… and the worst thing was you were so happy I couldn’t say those three little words…
I could write about you pages of pages… I could love you pages of pages… and write in small font so the pages last… and then hide the written letters between books so no one reads them…
When we first met, you told me that even if you had to you wouldn’t leave… I felt sad, you were compelled to feel like you had to make a choice because of me. I said, “You can go”, and the next words just came out of my mouth even though my heart wasn’t agreeing with my mind, I said “I’ll wait for you” deep down I felt it was the right thing to say and do. “I can’t leave” you said, I held you tightly so that your eyes would never know that much grief again… “I’ll wait for you”… I promised… without mercy for my tears… without knowing what the hell longing for someone felt like… I promised… I didn’t listen to my heart anymore because it now belonged to you… I couldn’t hear it’s screams from afar… maybe it was telling me “Give up” or maybe it was trying to convince me with words like “He’s doing fine, don’t worry”. Whatever it takes my heart loved him… I loved him and will always love him…
I was sitting on a chair beside my window when a swallow sat upon my flower pot. The swallow had a yellow flower petal between it’s beak. I wondered where it came from. The swallow turned towards me and like magic I started seeing images that did not belong to my memory… I was seeing blurry and hearing things in echoes…
“I was in a garden full of flowers, from African Daisies to Yellow Bells… but only one type of flower attracted my attention. What was it called? It’s in the tip of my beak… it’s, it’s called a daffodil! Yes those extraordinary flowers are called daffodils. It was like the sun was shining more brightly, more happily on the daffodils…
I flew closer and decided to take a look around the garden. The red roses were in the entrance of the garden and I could almost say they were dancing in the wind proudly. I nodded my beak to say hello but the red roses ignored me. I looked at the direction they were staring at jealously… of course the daffodils. There was a yellow daffodil between all of the white daffodils… she was singing and all the flowers and even the bugs were listening…
When the song ended, a strong wind blew through the garden. I was on top of a tree but even I got shivers.The red roses starting making jokes about how the yellow daffodil sang like a frog, but much to their dismay the yellow daffodil sang like no one else. All of the flowers in the garden were mesmerized.
I could memorize the song, I could hum all day long but what I just heard can not be imitated. I was lost for tweets. I was back to my senses when a human started walking through the garden… He stood in front of the yellow daffodil and pulled it out of it’s roots. I couldn’t breathe, the daffodil and it’s song was burried into history. The yellow daffodil lay unconscious in his hands… he sniffed and threw it on the ground. When he left I landed beside the yellow daffodil. She was looking at me with a faint smile… even then she was so beautiful. She said, “You never forget the ones that leave early…””