La Douleur Exquise
To be with you again, I’d trade my tomorrow for yesterday.
Autumn of light has begun, and so does with raindrops on my window. The cool breeze began to flow; everything is moving fast but still am slow. I shall smile when wreaths of rainbow blossom where the rose should grow.
As the light showers turn into heavy rains, drowning the roads and spilling the drains. The fitful gust comes from the mountain, shaking all day remain. I start to drench in my pain again.
A little thought accompanied by the rustling of leaves under autumn trees in the woods. I sit under the shelter covered by intricate oak to be close to the trees as they whisper together and let fall their leaves. Season of mist was our medium to meet when your flawless hair was soft-lifted by the winnowing wind-and your smile was warm to the gaze—and this mood by the name of melancholy shall no more blacken and obscured be.
Flowing winds bring reminiscence with miserable-romantic touch flying around in my mind. As the season we’ve been through together, I knew you weren’t only some bus in the park but my safe harbor in the ocean full of waves. Your presence in my life was like the few footprints that couldn’t be erased by a thousand waves that hit the shore continuously, one after the other. But now, the dream that keeps me excited — the future we dreamed together — is slowly fading like the mist of a breath on a mirror.
I haven’t seen you in close for years. Sunset is merely a prelude to the dawn. Yet, I still fill my mind with the most beautiful dream—seeing you everywhere and the harsh reality that comes from feeling so much — from remembering — from being foolish and carelessly experiencing deeply. Remembering you—the day when intention came to know you more—gave me a constant smile—contagiously thinking about it. You gave me your world through warm lips by the tip of your tongue.
As a heavy continuous fall of rain slowly changes into a bit of drizzle — joining the feeling of a downpour—blurry sightseeing of memories was getting clear, and I am drowned with my own imagination. I still remember when we were cuddling on your brown couch illuminated by the dim light of your living room. Reminiscing the way you put your arms around my neck, and I embraced you at the waist, and your legs embraced me in a way that only lovers know. There was no space left in between.
It was the time when hours felt like minutes—we knew that we were too afraid to start, but with the gentle of manners—slowly I started to begin to touch your face, your neck, your shoulders, and arms, softly sliding my fingers over every part of you without you being aware. We couldn’t help ourselves, but you were answering me without even knowing you were responding. And the more I felt you, the tenser we were.
At long last thinking about you always haunted by an endless guilty feeling of mistakes that I made within the castle that we’ve been building together. Deleting our favorite songs together was like tearing out a chunk of my heart. Watching the movie we used to watch together deeply drowned me with pain. I searched for everything that could arouse those old feelings and made sacrifices for them all. It was painful, but I had to make the break. And last, I knew that it was my mistake, but
aren’t we all make bad choices sometimes? Aren’t we all mess up things that matter to us most?
I wish that I could tell you that I would offer my profound apology to clarify the mistake of the pain of the fragility of life.
