As if he were blinding me from the world
Shielding me from the unknown days and restless nights
The city called my name for me to arise from my place of comfort
Street lights clicked as their moods changed,
I Lingered within the thick floral blankets,
As they gathered around my hips, squeezing me
As if they were saying, “Don’t let me go”
I gave them a melancholy glance, and swiped them from around me
And slid off my mountain-of-a-bed,
I paused,
And for a moment, I was dreaming so swiftly,
Floating in and out of reality
In and out of my mind,
Craving whatever was outside of my window
That caused me to be caught dead in a daze
An emotion so vague, that it could not be described
The moon still remained in the sky
Hoping for an answer as to why it has not left yet
Cars swish by
Trains blow their horns letting the world know,
That they are coming
A cool breeze smacks my face, and I am relieved from my dream
I rub my eyes, wanting to see my life more clearly,
But everything was a blur
I stumbled upon piles of letters
Some crumpled, some unfinished
I peer at them from the corner of my eye,
Twist my mouth to the side in concern
And continue walking
Nostalgia takes me over during my journey to the bathroom
The significance of writing him a letter
My point of writing him a letter
All of the possible responses to the letters if they were sent
I shake the constant thoughts from my mind
And I arrive in the bathroom
A wave of a liquid sensation splashes across my tired face
My eyes widen, and I no longer feel so stiff
From the chains of sleep
When I peer up, I take notice that
I am on the other side
To wonder what it feels like to be held within the
Constraints of yourself,
In a place where glass is your only surrounding,
Your only fate,
Your only hope,
Your only sense of protection
I walk back into my room
And slip on the clothes,
That gently hug my body
And give me a sense of comfort
A tingling sensation
Trickles down my spine,
And curves up my side,
Reaching into my nose
I turn around from my armoire
And peer at my bed
The smell of him
Drifts on my pillow
The sweet, but manly aroma of his being
The honey-like scent on his breath
His quaint, amiable smile floats within my memory
The feeling of his hands running alongside my arms and down to my waist
Firmly pulling me closer to him,
To steal a kiss
A passionate, but smooth kiss
His lips joining mine, slowly
Outlining the silhouette of mine
My breath flows into his mouth
And his into mine,
And we give each other life
He gazes into my eyes,
As if to figure me out,
As if to be saying something in his head
He tenderly whispered unto me, “Good morning, beautiful”
And I shyly smile and look down
He sneaks a peck unto my forehead
The most divine feeling filled my heart,
And I am complete
But that remembrance, has suddenly rolled away
With time and the past
And I found myself holding the pillow that he placed
His handsome head upon,
The sheets that his strong body was intertwined within
Tears quietly rolled down my face
And a pigeon came swooping by my window to greet me
As if to say, “Don’t worry, don’t cry”
A quick smile came across my mouth
And before I remembered, I was headed out to the city
On a mission of some sort
A drive that was forcing my long legs to move,
My feet to stomp on the pavement,
A crowd rushed passed me,
Persevering men working at stands screaming,
“I have Shish kebabs and hot dogs”
In their thick accents, wanting to be heard
Wanting business, as I shall say
I passed rich women,
Dressed up in their brightly colored silk shirts
With the matching skirt, and of course, the most expensive of heels,
Taking long, expeditive strides to arrive
In their big corporate office
Young teens,
Rushing in groups to head to the subway,
Talking about what they will do on the weekend,
Who goes out with whom?
And how they failed to finish their school work the night before
I smile, remembering those days
I keep walking without a destination,
Hoping I’ll end up somewhere interesting,
Somewhere that will captivate my mind,
Somewhere that will let me escape from my square-of-a-room
Somewhere where I can just breathe and live
Within my own time, my own world, if you will
Stereotypical tall, dark, and handsome men
Rush to their studios and law offices
To model and meet with their clients for cases
They all have such a determined face
A face that seems as if they know
That the whole world is watching them,
But it doesn’t matter,
Only they matter
Homeless people
Gather under bridges,
Longing for a better place to stay,
A constant feast being put in front of their face,
A place to wash up, and tear off the clothes that smell
Of sewage and bodily fluid
I give a few dollars to some of them that I passed by,
Not giving a care what they would do with it,
But instead the fact that I did something to help someone
They gave me a look, a strange, peculiar look
As if to be thinking, “Amazing, she is…”
I shrug off the look, throw a slight smile and worried look at them,
And continue walking
Taxis speed to their destinations,
Trying to avoid wasting time and the little tips, as a result
Women and men hold their thumbs out to signal to these
Bumble-bee-like cars
Time flew over the sky,
And the next time that I looked up,
The stars were watching me walk under them
They were making the tops of the buildings gleam with mystery
So intriguing, they were
Radiating within my eyes
I finally arrived in a stead of interest
It was a miniscule café on the corner of an avenue
That didn’t scream in fung shui,
But I stepped inside,
And alas, it was frankly astonishing
Paintings of such complex art
With colors and figures splashed across the canvas
In a pattern that caught the glimpse of my soul
The place, had such a cultural aura to it
But one that I could understand
It was a nostalgic environment
A place that yearned for small
Down-home people.
People that had a story,
People that knew that outskirts of their soul
People that lived within their mind,
But could express the depths that were
Slowly shriveling within themselves
A large stage with a microphone
Was arranged in the center of the café
Bar tenders and waitresses were serving hungry,
Complicated customers sitting down at small wooden tables
Clapping persisted after a young girl spoke her heart out
To the crowd
Something in me, something so faint,
But strong urged me to go on stage,
Urged me to explain what I’ve been dying to say
But to whom?
I demurely meandered upstage, as if an imaginary hand
Was personally escorting me
I licked my lips and cleared my throat in apprehensiveness
And introduced myself,
And what I would be sharing with everyone on this night
I began to speak,
And my words flew out, as if they had wings
I spoke of the story of a girl and a guy
Who were in love
But time would never let them be in unison,
How they both dreamed of a day where
They could be complete,
Where they could feel each other’s pain
How their love was unlike any other
So profound, yet complicated
How one day, one day soon, time would understand
And it would stop for them
But for now, they had to let go
Or everything would be in ruins
Things would never be acknowledged
Things would always be the same
So, she left, and he left
But her heart stayed and waited
while his left…
The crowd seemed so concerned and moved
They wanted to know what would happen next
They wanted to understand exactly how this girl,
And how the guy were feeling
I left the story at a pause,
And in walked a familiar face
A face that I could not grasp the reality of
A face that almost stopped my heart
…It was him
The guy who’s presence still lingered in my room
The guy who still had a part of me,
The guy who I still had a part of, deep down
He smiled, and sat down
My mind drew a blank
Trying to figure out what brought him here,
How he found me
However,
Underneath it all, his heart tugged at mine
And I was at ease, again
I smiled a shy, unbelieving smile
Bowed to the crowd,
And walked outside as I heard the people stand from their chairs
Looking back at me and clapping from the depths of their palms
I didn’t realize how late it was, but it was the late-morning hour
There went time again
Doing what it always does,
Sneaking by without a trace
I felt as if I left a part of me on stage, when I shared that story,
But when I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder,
That story flooded back to me,
And there he stood,
His beautiful face
His beautiful smile,
and he tenderly whispered unto me once more,
“Good morning, beautiful”
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