unspool and crystallize

the little random and spontaneous things

Dream

The beauty of dreams is that they appear real and yet obscured. You’ve only got snippets to remember but they still have the substance to make reality seem like a joke.

 

Solace in Solitude

Doors are shut closed
But the chains are not enough
Unlocked stealthily by intruders;
I’m masked with smiles
They see me, yet they don’t

To them it’s nothing,
To me, it’s something
When I say ‘no’, they seem to hear ‘yes’
When I flash red, they speed off with the green

So I walk alone
But never too alone, but never through the crowd
Alone with my thoughts, alone in my world
To find solace in solitude.

With You

I want to go cafe hopping with you. We could visit adorable sweets parlors, too. Even if you’re not part of the sweet tooth population,  I’m absolutely certain that you would be up for it. We would be talking over a cup of caramel macchiato  with a cheesecake resting on my plate and a Parmesan bacon sandwich resting on yours. We would talk about anything and everything – college, plans, cats, and whatnot – and have occasional conversations with subtle glances and hushed tones. When the sky paints itself with gradients of indigo and pink, we would walk to a park and I would take photos of all the random things that people take for granted; and perhaps I’d discreetly take a shot of you. We would watch kids play in the sandbox, an old man jogging his belly off, a woman sighing in her perfect suit. We would play the guessing game and make up stories of their lives. Oh! There would be cats too, and we would befriend them and receive purrs as we earn their trust. When the sky begins to glitter, it’s time for star gazing. But it also means it’s time to go home. So you drive your car as I sit on the passenger’s seat. We talk about how great of a day it was and laugh as we share snippets of our little adventure. Once we reach my gate, you would say,  “It was a good day.” I would reply, “It was a good day, indeed.”  “Goodnight.”

I want to do all these with you.

Goodbye

Our every day hallway split ups at 2:15 PM
The Fridays when I close the gate
The split second glance I take when I leave your car
The ocean between us during Christmas
And the nights when I close my eyes

You are the first to make it so hard to let out a “goodbye” from my mouth.

Sofa

You were on the left

I was on the right

You pulled me a little to your side

As you squirmed a tad bit towards me.

Now we’re in the middle

Uttering no words,

 You leaned your head on my shoulder

And I felt you softly breathe into a slumber.

It’s 2 AM. Your gentle smell still seeps through my skin while your heartbeat pulses through my left side.

Umbrella

raindrops sprinkle the leaves overhead,
and stream the asphalt with puddles.
they playfully slide down your umbrella
and throw careful splashes away from me.

I stole a glance, and saw your left shoulder drenched. 

Oblivious

“And so the grasses, they grow- oblivious to your departure. I sprinkle water over the pots and yet they wither.”

Passenger Seat

You picked me up at 5 in the morning and I go around for shotgun. I swung the door open just to meet a sunflower resting on the passenger seat.

“I wanted to claim your first smile of the day.”

You sure know how to make my day.

High-five

“Nice one!” I say.

You raise your hand and I smile.

I reply back with a high-five.

It was a loud clap  that lasted for a  second

but you held onto my hand a split second longer.

Sun Dance

July had kept its promise and brought about its melancholic rain. He knew about her hatred towards the weather so he told her about his sun dance in their 3 PM phone call over a cup of caramel machiatto.

He said, “I’ll do the sun dance and bring the sun back to keep loneliness creeping up on you. Just tell me when.” She could almost hear him smug.

“What if,” she said, twirling with the telephone cord. “What if I wanted it now?”

The line went quiet as she imagined him go about his so called ritual.

Yet, the sun never came.

By the evening when the gray skies called in as a substitute for the pink glow of the summer,  he knocked on her door. She swung it open just to meet a man holding out a stem of a sunflower; the yellow covering up most of his face.

“I told you I could bring the sun out.”

She smiled.

There ain’t no sun but I got a sunflower bright enough. 

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