You.

I like the way
your almond eyes shine;
so bright,
when you say babe or hi.

You make me an angel,
royalty too,
your love and admiration
makes me fall deeper for you.

You take a deep breath–
my heart skips a beat,
I’m falling, cartwheeling
to an eternity of you.

Enchanted.

Ah, there you were. You wave and your smile sends butterflies to the depths of my belly. You were always a charmer. One smile and I’m done for.

You set me off into a fast waltz–one two three, one two three–flustered, I stumble and fall. You hold me close against your chest and my vision blooms bright pink. It blossoms like a flower and my heart takes a deep dive.

My breath hitches as our fingers entwine. Oh dear lord, this is what paradise feels like. Bewitched, I sink into your hazel orbs.

Deeper, my heart screams, deeper.

If you asked me, I would follow you wherever. A sigh escaped my lips. Wherever.

 

Popcorn?

My heart skipped a beat as he took a step towards me.

All I could think about were his eyes–his beautiful double-lidded, almond-shaped eyes. They had this reddish brown hue to them, like the bark of a tree mixed with the last rays of the setting sun.

“Hey,” he said as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Yes?” My voice felt like a whisper as I leaned into his warmth.

He placed his hand against my cheek gently, tilting my chin slightly upwards as he studied my eyes. The hand-and-tilting-cheek-gesture was always his signal for something romantic. Was he going to plant his lips on mine? Was he going to sway side to side in a slow dance? My heart shuddered and held its breath. There was ambience and all I could hear was the beeping of the washing machine.

“Popcorn.”

“Popcorn?”

“Popcorn.”

A laugh escaped my lips. “Right now? It’s almost midnight!”

He flashed me his signature thousand-volt smile and a stubborn nod. Oh boy. That meant he was going to have his popcorn no matter what. Even if he had to wrestle me to the ground for it.

Just one of the many sides of love I guess.

Field of Green;

Are you listening to
the whispers of the trees?
Their leaves rustle red-purple in the
pastel field of green.

There hung a man they claimed
“didn’t deserve to be free”.
He hummed a desolate melody when
they said he murdered three.

In the dark of the new moon he cried
and told his lover to flee;
“run far away and hide
don’t you ever come back for me.”

Are you listening to
the whispers of the trees?
Their leaves rustle red-purple in the
pastel field of green.

There hung a man they claimed
had taken the lives of three.
The noose was tight, his body light
as he swayed in the field of green.

Here.

“Do you remember me?” I asked and stared into his eyes. His beautiful, double-lidded, hazel eyes.

He shook his head with an expression of both confusion and recognition. It was just after lunch. I couldn’t help but notice how his dark brown hair became an amber halo in the afternoon sun.

“Why do you keep asking me?” He frowned, his eyebrows arching in a questioning stare.

It was day fifty-one.

To him, I was probably this weird person whom he saw everyday, asking if he had any imaginary memories of me. If he did have memories of me, it was probably of me popping around randomly like a lost bunny.

He liked bunnies. He also liked draping his arm around my shoulder and I liked it when he did because it felt like home. I love you so much, he would say, his lips brushing against mine. He loved steak, sausage dogs and shadow boxing too.

Everything seemed surreal the night I received the call.

“There was a trauma to his head,” said the Doctor after the surgery. He had this clipboard in his arms and he was cloaked in white, like a messenger from God. “It’s fortunate that he’s alive. Give him some time.”

Give him some time. The words echoed endlessly in my head and I took in his blank, curious eyes. Part of me wanted to give up, yet part of me screamed for him to remember. It was weird, almost as if I had this split personality inside of me. Sometimes, there was this rage, this unstoppable anger that was like a wildfire. Then there was the deep pool of sadness.

I stood, plastered a smile on my face and waved goodbye.

“See ya tomorrow.” He said, his large hand waving goodbye.

The familiar phrase rang in my ears like a fire alarm; I couldn’t get any sleep that night.

It was day fifty-three. Like always, I went to the hospital for the daily visit. I caught him looking out of the mirror, his eyes moving from side to side as he watched cars drive past. He was so much like his old self that I almost ran into his arms. Almost.

“Hi.” I strode into the room and placed a subway bacon sandwich by his bedside.

“Is that for me?”

“Yup, thought you might like it more compared to the bland hospital meals.”

“That’s for sure.” He flashed his trademark lopsided grin and I stared at him, wide-eyed. It was the first time I had seen his old grin, the first in fifty-three days.

“Do… do you,” I paused and gulped hard. “Do you remember me?” A tiny speck of hope fluttered in my chest and my heart hammered against my ribcage.

“No.”

My heart sank. What was I expecting? Of course he wouldn’t like all the other days. If he did, he wouldn’t be looking at me like that with those sad hazel eyes.

On day fifty-four, I broke my old traditional routine. Instead of visiting that stark white building that placed the old houses beside it to shame, I switched shifts with my co-worker. It was her anniversary. She beamed with happiness that shone through the dark clouds in my mind.

It was day sixty. It’s been six days since I last visited him. I wonder how he’s doing in that place that smells of medicine, chlorine and disease. My nose dripped and I blew it for the twentieth time. Damn colds.

It was three in the morning when the phone rang. I groaned. I didn’t want to answer it since it was all the way in the living room. I pulled the blankets tighter around my shoulders, cocooning myself like a caterpillar.

It rang again. And again. Exhausted and sluggish, I made my way to that damn phone on that damn coffee table. I swung myself onto the sofa and sank into it. It was the hospital. They probably needed more paperwork from me and they couldn’t wait till the damn morning.

“Yes?” I answered, an edge of anger to my voice. It probably sounded like I had a slug down my throat due to the cold. An all too familiar baritone rang in my ears and my eyes went wide despite my drowsiness.

“Hey it’s me… Sorry for calling at this hour.” His voice was apologetic and I could easily envision it squirming a little awkwardly in the palm of my hand.

“No it’s alright,” I smiled despite myself. It was hard to control. “What’s the matter?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“To your question.” There was a long pause and all I heard was his ragged breathing.”I remember how much I love you Violet.”

Brrrr.

The warm aroma of coffee wafted through the air, blending in with the familiar scent of wood and newspapers. A soft jazz tune hummed gently from the hidden speakers in the high-rise ceiling. The tune rose and sank with a peaceful elegance, creating a solitary calmness that filled the coffee house. Square wooden tables were lined neatly in three rows, accompanied by red cushioned chairs with daisy prints.

A young woman in her mid- twenties stood behind a long black counter that was furthest from the entrance. She twirled a strand of her blonde-brown hair and watched small specks of snow float down the wide glass window by her right. Empty streets, cloudy skies, and snow, she thought. That was how it was every winter. One or two customers might visit the shop once in a while, but that was it. She glanced at her leather wristwatch, watching each second pass with every tick of the second hand.

“Brrr.”

A gentle, clean cologne filled her senses as she tore her eyes away from her wristwatch. A tall man clad in a long, black winter coat that skimmed his knee stood by the entrance, brushing off a layer of white from his shoulders. His figure loomed large in the coffee house, and she couldn’t help but notice the way the dull morning light dusted his sandy brown curls. She could almost hear the soft swish of his grey straight-cut trousers as he turned away from the entrance, towards the counter.

“Hey.” Five large strides had brought him to the counter where he greeted her with a smile. His emerald green eyes locked upon her hazel ones. They were gentle, like soft pastel colors matched with the painting of a meadow.

“Hi,” she smiled in return. “Cold out there, isn’t it?”

“It’s freezing!” His eyes twinkled with laughter as he gave her an exaggerated shiver.

“That’s true.” A small chuckle escaped her lips as she took in his long eyelashes, almond-shaped eyes, double eyelids, clean-shaven chin, thin lips, and long straight nose. His olive skin glowed with a slight tan–the healthy kind that resulted from outdoor hobbies. He definitely belonged to good looking.

“Could I have a cup of coffee?”

“Oh yes definitely!” She felt embarrassment flush across her cheeks as she gestured at the two blackboards placed by the side of the counter. Thank god he couldn’t read minds, she thought as she watched his green eyes flicker from side to side as he read the menu.

“A… Doppio Espresso, regular?”

“On its way.”

“Thanks Jessie.”

She stared at him, bewildered and caught off guard.

“Your name tag.” His hearty laugh broke through the gentle sway of jazz and echoed endlessly in her head. Damn, she thought as she felt her heart skip a beat too many. She was a sucker for laughs.

Milquetoast

Your deep brown orbs bore into me and I fidget under your stare. Somehow, today feels a little different, special even.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Your baritone rings in my ears.

The awkward silence is broken with a simple question, but the nervousness still spreads like a wildfire.

“Y-yes, please.”

A moment later, with coffee before us, we began our discussion.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years, Ms. Abigail?”

I gulped and regurgitated the answer I had written down when I had thought about the potential questions. “Possibly married, with one or two kids.” A nervous laugh escaped from my lips.

“Really?”

Was this what I wanted? To be a passive housewife, to be used as a child-birthing and keep-the-house-tidy machine? What happened to your dreams, your aspirations?

I nodded timidly like one of those solar-powered nodding toys.

Your eyes clouded, your expression unreadable. Then, your thick straight eyebrows relaxed and your face morphed into a charming, smiling angel.

“That’s nice, I can envision you being there.”

With that, you stood and planted a fifty-dollar bill upon the table. I looked up with questioning eyes.

“I always thought you were more…” you paused, searching for the right word. “aggressive, or rather, passionate about life.” A sigh escaped your lips as you extended a hand. I stood and extended mine, shocked by the quick turn of events.

“It was nice meeting you, and best of luck for your next blind date.”