liyana

I remembered times when I was desperately finding ways to be with you. This happened very early on during our courtship. Or friendship. Or whichever you would call it.

I would always want to meet you. To hear your voice. To see you smile. To hear you laugh.

I wanted to listen to your ramblings and talks. Be amused. Or nourished by your need to share.

But I would always be at loss of things to say, I did not have enough to share. Or anything in common that you could relate to. My world was boring for girls like you. My world was just about work and the not-so-bright side of adulthood.

You said your world was filled with stories. With books. Of love. Of flying tortoise.

Of exams. Of boys who tried (phffftt! I can picit budak - budak ni sampai mati. Stop smirking). 

Of your dream finding someone wild to run with and explore this world.

You dreamt of flying high into the sky.

I was dealing with not so pleasant things in life. The darker side of humanity that we’d wish to ignore. Things I had to do were sometimes a plain betrayal to my conscience.

But I could not pour them onto you.

So I painted a beautiful world for you. I sent sunshine to you.

You told me, in its beauty you lay asleep. You felt safe.

Though sometimes you swat at my sunshine, I know you kept it close to your heart.

We wrote to each other when distance came in between. Waxed poetic. Sometimes to indulge. At times just to be there.

And when we met during your holidays, I let you 'dragged' me wherever you felt like going. All the nice and pleasant things you said then, sometimes did not register, because I would be anticipating the hours that I would have to face in your absence.

I started holding your hand almost immediately. So that you did not have to guess. You might be flattered with the public affirmation and display. I was just counting hours. Seconds. In that little token of attachment, I was hoping our world would merge. And saved me from cold and dark facets of life that I faced without you.

‘In you the sky that I seek’, I said.

‘And I weaved your dreams into mine.’

There have been times where I couldn’t come up with excuses to be with you. To find ways to hold your hand. To walk with you and put my arms around you. Sometimes possessively. Sometimes beaming with pride.

I sighed. I confessed that I have ran out of reasons to conjure every time I needed to reach you.

You saw it in my eyes.

And you kissed me.

…

Every time you kissed, your tongue made a little twist.

It never fail to send me to heaven. Each time.

chairil