Sunday 23 June 2013


In this world where rain falls continuously - I'm running.
In this world where clouds can be seen hanging heavily on what used to be once a clear, blue sky - I fear.
In this world where people are crying - I hide.
In this world where hope has been forgotten - I dream.
This world, this planet, the sky, the water, the flowers, the bees, the soil, the rocks, the mountains and the meadows - they're all part of me. I hold them in, deeply buried in a heart that was rejected and stepped on countless times. For I am the bird that sings at the window of your eyes, I am the one who will stand still in a crowd that continues to move.
There's a lot of gray - I'm a rosy blue.
There's a lot of sorrow - I will always hold a smile just for you.
Call me - I won't run from you.
Hold me - I will accept your touch.
Cast me away - I won't be broken.

You and I - we're an old, unwritten story. So let the distance between us be the pages and the numbers be the ink for our ongoing novel. Let the crowd be the main character; we'll take the second lead. Let the rain stain the pages and it will be more personal. Let us be written line by line, word by word, emotion by emotion. Let us be described like Bonnie & Clyde of the present or Scarlett & Rhett of the century. Let us have minor part in our own love story. But most importantly, let us have a happy ending.
Are we running? And if so, are we running to each other? Won't we stop somewhere halfway through, ten minutes away from each other, totally missing the greatest love?
Are we aware of each other? Aren't we dreaming the American dream in which the other is faceless, tasteless, voiceless, colourless and merciless?
Are you dreaming of me? 'Cause I'm dreaming of you. You're the man in my noir dreams, the shadow in my darkness, the light during my days, the voice that sings me to sleep.
Are you waiting? 'Cause I've run all of my life, trying, struggling to find you.
Will you turn away from me?
Will you smile for me and only for me?
Will you give up on me and take another, a copy instead of the real?
Will you just refuse me?
But even it will be so, I won't be running away, I won't cry, I won't beg. I'll just... stay. Still. Around. Smiling. So that you can see that I am the friend you always had, the sibling you always wished for, the lover in your cold bed, the memory you'd want to put in a box and bury away for keep.

Hello, dear soulmate. 
I've been writing and wishing for you up till now. 
I'm me.
But who are you?

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