Yours, truly.

I once asked you what your favorite memory with her was.

When you asked me the same question except between mystery man and I, out of fear of being identified, I shied away  and only gave you a  few tattered words. For that, I apologize. I know that you’ll never read this but for all it’s worth: To your ghost that still lingers around, hey there and although I’m far to late for this to change anything and am far too helpless to do anything else but watch as things around me unfold, finally, here’s my humble response to your re-question:

Peace, idacity,

PS: I hope you appreciate the pun in the title.


Yours, truly.

Stifled laughs and half-hearted protests,
I could feel nothing but the warmth of your chest.
The soft susurrus of our quick and shallow breathes,
It was a track stuck on repeat, the background lullaby to our safe haven nest.

Amongst a silent crowd, and translucent drapes of milkly white,
We lay drenched in the molten-honey light of day morphing into night,
Against my better judgment, with the nativity of a child new-born,
My fingers tentatively graced the outline of your form.

With hands that crept up on me from behind, only to somehow end up in mine;
With arms so sturdy but a touch so gentle,
Words of vowels and consonants drunkenly assembled-
Glasses off and hair slipping down, you had me momentarily spell-bound.

With a head on my leg and fingers wrapped around my thumb,
To sleep’s seduction, you had succumb.
In your mind, the world was stained an obsidian black,
But as you held my hand, I sensed undertones of something much more than that.
Eccentric twitches, slight jerks, it was as if you were…hurt.
Haunted by mutant beasts- the sons and daughters of perpetual angst,
It seemed like a losing battle, as if you were facing their metal claws with flimsy wooden planks.
“Hey baby, baby hush now. Hold my hand and go to sleep-“
I whispered in a faltering voice before I stopped, too afraid to continue to speak:
“- because…hey, baby, you don’t know this but I’m yours to keep.”

Even in sleep’s grasp, you wore a shield as a defense mask.
But no matter how much you’ve trained or how many bruises you’ve obtain,
Or how many people you’ve counselled or happy tunes you’ve danced to,
You’re not as strong as you may think but aye, that doesn’t mean you’re weak.
Don’t resort to being a lone wolf because although it’s easier, it’s lonelier too
So hey mystery man, let’s be a lone pack of two,
Not just ‘you’ nor just ‘me’, it’ll be the both of us: ‘we’.

Arms around your neck and yours around my waist,
…Okay, admittedly, I kind of miss your embrace.
From the front, or the back or even side attacks,
From the crook of your neck to the tension in your shoulder,
To the slights quivers in your breath as I get slightly bolder;
From the iron grip on my wrist.. gah! ‘Brodude’, please, just hold her.

Although it was short lived – ending prematurely:
I do have a confession: that for a moment, you really were my heaven.
Signed- yours, truly.

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