let me stroke your hair with my soft hands. last night was February 25th, it was kinda special. for it was Sunday when we both got to spend the day together, you took me to a cafee and we had brunch. walking upstairs on the second floor with the view; sunny day, ocean blue, white sands, ships on the shore bringing some loads, tuna fish probably. lemon tea was the drink we ordered, it’s not the usual, no coffee, just lemon tea. the chicken steak I ordered was good, hot plate, potato and carrot on the side. you ate your favorite seafood and asked me which one’s my favorite between chicken and duck. the food was good.
the clear blue February’s sky, uncovered by the clouds, always ever-bewitchingly stunning, pretty sure they are packed with pixie dust and warm pecks of memories. there’s even the moon or is it a big sprinkle of pixie dusts? one can only wonder.
i can tell the sky was quite bright, too bright, and the breeze was too strong and my eyes couldn’t even properly opened, half opened and still struggled with the dust flying through the wind. the whole afternoon was too good, deep convos over things that we dont even know the answer yet. the mystery of the universe and the things in between.
you wore your deep army shirt with that blue jeans and that smile behind your brown blackish eyes. on the way home 6 pm in the evening, choosing which spot to stop by, watching the sun sets. getting some snacks and you ordered hot chocolate as i took water instead. the evening was calm as well as my heartbeat. the yellow, pale, orangish shade of the sky up above making your face a bit red. i told you about writing letters and put it inside a bottle and throw it away on the ocean. a fisherman while fishing on the sea or a seven year old kid might find it and keep it just for the sake of good fortune.
and i dont know when i love your eyes more, when they are half open or open or shut. it’s mid night 00.18 am. now. i stumble upon the thought of you. for some reason i think you’re on a boat or anywhere near the shore, star gazing, taking both of your hands behind your head as a pillow. as I recall I probably already told you about a thousand times how much I love star gazing and how much I love the night sky.
it’s cold today, but in a spring way.
February 25th.
i don't want to cry like that again. I just wish if ever I will cry again, it would be the time, the happiest time with you.
how regrettable that we meet each other so late in life but how fortunate that it’s still not too late.
all i do here is read a book, write poetry, drink too much coffee, and romanticize my melancholic solitude. who am i if not a lover and a lover of letters?
