Sometimes, it’s the littlest things you remember about someone whilst knowing them, that make them all the more special.
Like how I noticed you tend to shy away whenever I called you ‘my handsome boy’. Or when you had your lips curled in a devilish smile when I mentioned ‘Bon Iver’ incorrectly. Or how you’d always ask what I was thinking, curious to know the depths of my inner thoughts.
And it’s then you notice that these little things weren’t insignificant to begin with. Because these are what makes them distinctive, definite. These are the things that make me miss you immensely.
That night, I told him I wasn’t sure of my feelings towards us, towards him, towards me.
That maybe we’re moving too fast, too consumed by our own presence that we forget that we’re after all, just kids. Kids who’re just lost and alone, trying to find our way back home and ourselves(if we’re lucky enough).
When I thought that that was it, the end of our short-lived bliss, he looked at me with such longing and said,
"What are feelings but temporary vacancies to fill our hesitancies?"
Sometimes when I lay in bed, I imagine you lying next to me, holding me close, telling me that everything is going to be alright. That we’re all doing the best we can with ourselves, as you swept the strands of hair away from my gazing eyes, sweetly yet gently.
I kiss those lips of yours slowly, savoring the softness it imparts me with and I think to myself then that night,”I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
Powder blue, Lavender hues, Misty rose, Moccasin yellow and a tint of coral; Transitions.
Details intricately woven before our very own eyes, that even we can’t muster nor express the same exact brilliance. Even if one ever tries, such iridescence can never be proclaimed, never be repeated nor can it ever be a mirror image to what has been created.
Such is our lives, the paths that we’ve chosen have brought us along to where we are. These paths are that of these transitions and when we look back and ponder on the ‘whys’ and ‘hows’ of our past, do we get a glimpse of our own progression, our own metamorphosis.
It may not be complete as that of the sun but there’s no denying that it’s complexity is as coruscating as it seems. Not only are we able to see and appreciate the blossoming of our own selves - be it late nor early - we’re also be able to accept that these transitions, our transitions, are what makes us whole, unique, irreplaceable in every way. And that by far, is a beautiful thing.
"It’s an exploration, she’s made of outer space
And her lips are like the galaxy’s edge
And her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place"
Arctic Monkeys (Arabella)