1:10 a.m., 25th May 2012.
I am still struggling with my mind and its thoughts, wondering what happened last night. Is my wildest fear — that she now knows of my madness for her — finally coming true? Or has it already happened, and in my ignorance I simply couldn’t see it?
The solution isn’t complicated; it could even be the simplest thing — just letting her know. But the mismatch of mind and heart, of fire and water, of past and present, keeps competing inside me — and, I think, inside her too. What can I do at this particular moment?
So, as before — but with new evidence, and new feelings — I write, again and again, to map out my thoughts: my cloud of worry, my pursuit of happiness, poured into my poems and my blog. And I hope that one day she’ll read it.
Near midnight, she says goodnight to me, and I wonder if it is the morning of her dreams. She holds my breath with her voice, and unsettles me with the familiar mischief of her charm — and I wonder if this is just the beginning of her love.
She blinds me with her eyes, and I am lost in the endless depth of it; I wonder if it is only a part of her world.
But sooner or later, I wake from the dream. I find the reality exactly the same — except that, this time, she is not by my side.
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