Of thing yet to happen
Hard to explain to you my thoughts, I sit with what ever is left of me. It isn't that I am not visible enough to be seen, but your blindness to look me through my eyes, you see my skin and nothing beyond that. We met on a newly paved path of uncertainty, hoping to embark all that comes by, but then we were never what we ought to be I believe, or maybe we were just to happen and then everything held on a pause. I remember how earthly everything felt that day, nothing extraordinary, something that was normal, no butterflies or thunder. And i guess that moment I knew we were to live this life of uncertainty. To be honest I do enjoy all of this. I enjoy making out with you, the warmth you exhale onto me. I enjoy how we learn every new day what we are, a little more of you and me. I enjoy our differences, our own conflicts. You are so simple, yet so full of everything, I am deep yet hollow in many a places. Isn't it beautiful how the universe thought we'd make a great pair?
So with all the uncertainty that lingers I tried talking, my thoughts and my emotions. But you looked at me, a little less of smile flashed across your face, but then it was for a moment's pleasure alone. And then I saw how you didn't understand, how you were completely clueless. We sat on couches in the same room, but our souls were of two different places. The blankness in your words as you replied did hurt, but then dear I couldn't complain. It would be utterly unreasonable to blame you, for you and I are one, but then we are still not.
