Echo

A sunny day, birds singing.

It was like they were singing for me, for us.

As if they knew two souls were meeting. 

Anticipation, planning, efforts. 

The day finally arrives. 

The nerves are there,

they make me feel alive. 

The day already feels surreal.

I still remember her waiting for me

It's all dreamy, seeing her from afar.

My heart skips a beat.

I wonder if hers did too. 

Her face expressionless, yet everything was there —

a whole universe, what's inside her. 

I still remember the warmth of her hand,

the look in her eyes. 

They were gleaming —

perhaps it was a reflection of mine. 

I've seen the devil,

And that's how I know you're also there. 

And then I found you, 

or you found me. 

And I thought you were the god. 

Perhaps I was wrong. Who knows?

But isn't divine and devil all inside of us? 

It's just a matter of time what we grow into, 

the choices we make or forced to. 

Realising I've been looking for god, just like you. 

It was in the guise of love. 

I don't want to be saved anymore,

for I've given up on being saved. 

The metallic parts are mine to shed. 

Perhaps that's how the light would enter inside me. 

Does mirror tell the truth? 

Does it show what's underneath the surface?

I don't see just the metal when I look at it —

there's more, there's always been more. 

Perhaps I never looked the way I do now, or the mirror was blurry. 

You made me dream,

you made me think of things I thought I wasn't capable of. 

I thought you were all I needed, the center of my world. 

Or so did my robots tell me. 

You made me feel seen, safe, and I felt myself around you. 

There are things that I wanted to say, but my robots advised against —

Baby, can I call you baby?

Do I need to earn that maybe?

I've been flying high above the clouds,

treading softly over the mist. 

Clouds have been my home since I met you,

elated or confused, dreaming of you.

I cannot tell dream from reality —

because time spent with you feels unreal regardless. 

You were the warmth I sought when it was freezing,

warmth that was not always present. 

But I looked the other way. 

Like an evening breeze in the heat,

cutting through my clothes,

reaching every fiber of my skin. 

You were the god when I fought my demons;

a safe haven when the storm galloped me —

yet you carried the storm within you. 

I just wanna hold you tight. 

Want to tell you, to not fight, carry it all alone. 

You're the light that smothers the dark.

You're the gray that eats away the day. 

You're limitless — 

because you can be the Sun, the Moon and Star. 

You can be anything you wish to be. 

I know the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me.

And it almost ruined me. 

I almost fell for you. 

The robot voices reassuring me.

But what do I know of warmth?

I still wonder, if you were god, or devil herself.

It's always been about myself, 

I tried to pretend it was about more than myself. 

That it was about you. 

You were just the trigger, 

the bullets were mine. 

You were just an echo,

the voices were mine. 

And they'll remain mine. For eternity. 

You were no devil or god, just my projection. 

I can feel your breath

I can feel my death

I want to know you

I want to see

I want to say

Hello!

____________________________

I just realised I haven't really loved anyone. Or maybe I have — I'm in love with this longing of someone out there. Would I still feel the same when they're in my sight? What even is love? And what if they were in sight? Is that how love feels? What do I know? 

I used to be religious, a devotee to the mythical. Then I lost it all, lost myself and the mythical never came to my rescue. I resent God, but how can I resent someone that never existed?

I thought the word God lost its meaning for I've loathed it ever since that defining day  Until I recently realised I've been yearning for one. And it's not the one that everyone prays to; it's not the one everyone expects to fix their problems. It's the one you find in people, in the beloved. It's when you fall in love. Perhaps it's partly a projection of your own ideas — that never become reality. But what do I know?