How It Feels

Tell me how it feels to be loved by him

Impressionist Figurative Painter by Ron Hicks (1965)

Hello,

You don’t know me but I know the same exact person who once blooming your heart. We’re not related by blood, but here we are….In the double-cross life-line. But, I’m in the red one. Do you ever heard about me? Of course not, too busy being somebody for someone. Well, in some kind of movie I might appeared as the audience worst nightmare and maybe that’s because my name walked through the wrong tale.

A villain.

Let me tell you a story….Once when the air was as cold as the autumn river, when I was a bit younger. Some books are screaming telling a story when were the angels has fallen….and I knew that day I just met one.

You and I may call him our personal angel. He was the Archangel Michael for some reasons. Yes, we are only specks of dust in the galaxies. But, a pieces of dust in front of me became my galaxy. Sounds unbelievable, no matter how many times I repeats them. I've tried to put my headphones on, close my eyes and builds a wall but it won’t help. That’s the moment I knew I’ll lose my youth trying to figuring his out.

This one with the bluish soul who painted a bright red part and you can’t help but falling.

Just like me,

With every sick fiber of my being. I might never be tired of having bruised knees and dumbass heart that always hoping.

Stood there in front of the room, he wore that brown as a berry t-shirt just same as mine, and soul as blurry as mine. Things that years later maybe becomes the reason you’ve got caught up too.

Your smile is mine, when watching his innocent mind

Your playlist is mine too, the same songs that echo in his ears, they just have different added dates.

And your hearts is mine, it beats the same name over and over again. We couldn’t sleep well for months. But now, seems like he isn’t getting much sleep either. Maybe that’s because his favorite hobby is right besides the coffee cups and recorded scenes.

I don’t know.

I didn’t had a single chance to getting closer.

And I wonder…

Maybe you think I’m bitter…but I think you’re lucky. You and him trapped into a story-it is pretty, isn’t it?

So, if there’s any chance to knowing me-to knows you…would you tell me a story?

How it feels when he standing rights besides you through the day and dark?

How it feels when he hold your hands through the parking lot?

How it feels when he staring at the moon and tell you what's funny about that day?

How it feels when he told you about his dreams in the middle of the busy city?

How it feels when his chocolate-covered eyes sealed your lips?

And how does it feels,

Hearing your name coming out of his mouth?