For Him

If it’s so wicked to like someone who may no longer be available to be the object of my fascination and endless devotion then feed me to the waves and banish me to hell for in there I might find myself in perfect harmony with all that is evil in this world. I am not afraid to let these words slip through my tongue like they’re childish tales for I cannot put an end to my feelings for that person whom I must never have feelings for.

I am unafraid to be slaughtered by scornful bashing for I know that my heart fails not to deceive my rationality…

I adore him.

If only I could make use of my knowledge of words as the vessel of what I am feeling right now. The very core of my gut burns with violent passions that I may never capture through the lens of a camera or through my phrases.

For no matter how vast my intelligence is for wording out all that there is, I am afraid that none of what I am capable of can vividly illustrate the erratic (both devastating and calming) ways of the human heart.

My dear reader, I am so fearful for I cannot bear the thought of living without this person. Call me stupid and naive but I’d have to admit that my heart beats my chest for it desires that person and no one else.

I’ve never experienced this kind of desire.

It’s very similar to a wildfire that starts small and after a while would devour all that is aligned across its path. It’s devastating yet astonishing.

It’s like having your internals scooped out of your body just for everyone’s picking.

I have never desired a hug so bad in my life; not even with those boys who once had me as their “muse”.

I have never experienced anything as strangely powerful as this one. His eyes, so enigmatic and dark; those orbs that would nonchalantly penetrate through me and then playfully turn its curiosity towards  the switch located somewhere inside my soul; and before I know it? I have already folded.

I have never had this persistent wish of having the permission to trace someone else’s laughter lines with my fingertips; leaving every crevice with my mark… a piece of who I am.

I have never wanted to touch someone else’s hands before, but when I saw you, my senses started growing wild. They have become so wild that they are now beasts that bang the walls of my body– their cell.

I have never wanted to taste a kiss so rare, so foreign to my tongue. A taste that in imagination itself arouses all the passion that has been quietly dwelling within me.

I have never desired a man who’s a complete stranger to me and yet I’d spend my days weaving perplexed ideas as to how I could love him and never let him go.

If only you know anything. If only the wind carries messages locked up by hearts and send them out as gifts to those people who are being often thought about by the hearts as to where  the winds stole the ideas from.

If only you knew that the girl whose name you called “something” and whose handwriting is far more worse than your own, wants you for herself, ignoring the fact you may actually be betrothed to someone far better than she is.

If only you know that, that same girl who constantly bluffs her way out of situations that would push herself closer to you fantasizes about how your hands would feel like when they’re around her waist.

If only you know that, that girl is the same person who anonymously sends you holiday greetings sealed with high hopes that you might find out as to who was sending them.

If only you know that that girl is I.

If only you know that I want you so much, so much that  it’s a wiser choice to just let the feelings die….

For let’s face it, my feelings will never amount to anything right?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s