My 4 am ramblings.

You remind of a song I used to love, it was all I wanted to hear at all times, but then I suddenly stopped listening to. Because the world kept interfering, making it very hard for me to even hum the rhythm any more.

You remind me of a book I slowed myself down while reading in a vain attempt to keep myself from finishing it.

You also happen to remind me of an abandoned book on my father’s bookshelf. One I hid a long time ago. I still haven’t figured out why. One that I keep unread.

And another that I hold whenever the world seems too big or too small for me to exist in. One that only listens to my late night aches. One that sometimes succeeds in distracting me from all the mess I yearn sometimes to create.

I guess you also remind me of the first painting I ever drew. It was flawless, yet not understandable to anyone. I sometimes believed that even I might have misinterpreted it.

A chaotic portrait of my mind is what it was. I was relieved I could touch the fine line I drew to border my insanity. I needed to see that madness existed outside of my head as well. I needed to feel a less insecure.

I have been planning on telling you how much these things mean to me. I have been planning on telling you how you mean to me more than all these things combined.

I want to hold on to you like I have held on to all forms of art that I have come to know.

I want to see you rise. I want to see you believe you can.

I want to see that heart of yours healed.

I want the world to see how beautiful you truly are.

I want to kiss your soul goodnight.

I want to kiss your lips so gently every night as I turn a new page of my diary, eager to fill it with more memories of you the next day.

I want to be your company, even on my worst nights.

You make me want to stay and fight my urge to run the other way around every time you say something nice.

You make me lose sense of every thing and every one around.

You make me want to jump head first only so you could catch me, and I’m not even the risk taker type.

You swirl my heart, and I want you to be mine, only if for the night.

Make me sing that song again, fill me with courage so I could reach out and finally open that dusty book. Frame my painting across our bed and remind me every night how beautiful the insides of my head are.

Or better yet, sing the song with me, tuck me into bed and let me fall asleep to your sleepy voice reading the deserted book. And I will teach you how to draw so we could both contemplate the exquisiteness of the human being that you are.


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