Someplace Else

You make me happy, do you know that?

How so?

Your existence, your breath, your caramel hair against the morning sun, your porcelain skin against mine, your squinty eyes when you're being naughty, the way your fingers slowly crawl on my face. 

What else?

Your smile. Your perfect teeth. Your little dance in the kitchen. The way you stand. The way you walk. Little silly things you say when you have your first coffee of the day. 

You make me happy too.

How so?

You. You by being you. You make me happy. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Sleep Deprivation Equals To Apple Pie

Image
It crosses my mind (at this wee hour), that when you can't get your eyes close and adrift in a good night dream, images of recipes and good foods always come uninvited. I browsed a website and dang over there were these gorgeous blueberry pie and a chicken pot roast and lemon-lime danishes and the list is further miles ahead. I can't sleep. But my brain is entirely exhausted. I worked until 6 in the morning yesterday and once I opened up my eyes exactly at 12.48 pm today (Tuesday), there were 18 missed calls from the Company. That is not the point. My point is, I can't sleep. And when I did a little rummaging just now in my fridge, I found a bag of apples, a few kiwis, gazilions of portobelo mushrooms, and a box of butthead lettuce. A thorough thinking has been done, and I am planning to mash up all the apples and make some pies. Finding blueberries here, is like digging for a little japalenos in a bunch of cili melaka. They don't have blueberries, but they have a rack ...
Read more

He Did Not Come

He did not come yesterday, and there were me and my agony I made no calls, to him who happened to have no balls. And I asked a friend, he worked so late, trying to toss the fate I did not care, I am still breathing with blood streams down my veins. He comes today, with a weary look on his face, For me, in his face, I find my solace, For him, I find no one who can be replaced, I love him a lot, no man can erase To you Mr. R. XOXO ZA
Read more

Almost

Image
Almost. It slips off the tongue like a sigh, a word so small it shouldn't hold so much weight. But it does. It sits heavy in my chest, a stone lodged in the place where dreams used to bloom. I built my life on almosts, sturdy little houses made of "what ifs" and "maybes." Almost graduated top of my class, almost married the man who swore he'd love me forever, almost held a child in my arms. Each one a promise whispered on the wind, then snatched away like a cruel game. And the worst part? The worst part is how they steal your future. You get so caught up in the almosts, the shimmering mirages of what could have been, that you forget how to live in the present. You become a ghost in your own life, watching as real happiness dances past, just out of reach. Perhaps, almost is the saddest word there is.
Read more