Yours

Those lovely gazes aren’t for you to gaze back at,
Those hands aren’t yours to hold tightly at night,
Those sweaters he owns aren’t for you to wear when you’re cold,
Those warm embraces aren’t yours to seek for,
And those soft lips aren’t yours to kiss when the fireworks starts singing;
He’s not yours, and he will never be; yet every night you wish he was, so that you can do all those things with him.

He’s not yours, but there is someone who is; someone who seeks to hold you every night, someone who would gaze at you rather than the beautiful sunsets, who would give you their sweaters when you’re cold, who would give you those warm embraces you were seeking for all these years, and those soft lips are yours to kiss before, during, and after the fireworks have sung.

Daydream

I kept gazing, gazing at the incomplete moon in the evening sky, making me feel, that maybe, just maybe that we’re staring at the same moon. The thought of you gazing at the moon with me makes me feel safe and cozy, like we’re connected in some way.

“What are you like? What are your favourite songs?…What are your fears?”I thought to myself, as if asking the moon for an answer, but getting no answer in return, only the sound of silent waves crashing at the shores drenching my toes that I buried in the sand.

I sighed, “I’ll wait for you” I whispered to the wind, blowing my hair sideways. I got up from my feet and started walking, dreaming, dreaming about when I’ll intertwine my hand in yours.