When I look at you
By: QPVT



          When I look at you, it’s like I’m taking my first sip of my hot café Americano. Your face is the first drop of rain after a decade of drought. Your smile is the air I first inhale when I come up from a deep long dive. Your eyes are the hurricane that continually brings me down my knees. I know, you don’t have to remind me countless times, I’m powerless over you.
You are a tornado. I have to grip roughly to the things around me because your nearness pulls my body towards you like north and south poles of an electromagnetic field. Your wind whips unforgivingly and every lash of it is a tablespoon of salt being sprinkled over the wounds that tell me, You are the bigger entity that could destroy me and I’m just nothing but a victim of your massive mission for devastation.

        I may be a casualty but I’m afraid I’ll be fine with it. I’ll be fine surviving with the relief goods of your affection being packed up tightly with caution and a tinge of pity. There may never be a  time wherein I’ll stand up to tell you about the enormity of feelings I have for you which currently is clogging my lungs. However, I’d like to first tell you that regardless if this is a one way ticket to heartbreak and regardless if I kept on ignoring the brakes that tell me to slow down the skiing flutters of my heart, I am happy that I’m on this journey. I’m happy I’m driving myself towards this particular path knowing I’m alongside with you even if the end of this is a cliff I know I may never come up or survive if I ever fall. It’s fine with me that in your story I may be just a page ripped and tattered, as if my part is not as valuable as the rest of the characters you hold dear.


       I’m sorry my cowardice may cause us to leave this unfinished book into an impending happy ever after. I’m sorry there may never come a time where my heart will have a mouth to lay down in details the feeling I had bottled into a tightly-locked cork of fear. I’m sorry for continually extinguishing the igniting sparks of attraction because of my inability to get past the waves of potential rejections I fear to drown myself in. 

      I’m sorry for the “us” that I may never become part of. 

      I’m sorry for the “me” you may never call yours. 

      I’m sorry for the “you” I’ll forever love from afar. 

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