It was on a bus where I first saw you. You glistened in the sun while I turned three shades of red, just like the rest of my style. I remembered it was February 13th and just for once, I’m not dreading about the fact that the next day was Valentine’s Day.
It was on a bus where we first gazed into each other’s eyes. The second our eyes met, I saw you. I saw you at your most beautiful, and my mind reeled about one of the few truths I was willing to accept. I told myself, “He’s the one who’d make me feel again.” But I never told you that in that moment, I was at my most vulnerable too. It took us one look and I’ve never felt so scared because I knew, I knew that it would also take one look for you to break me.
It was on a bus when you became a lapse in my judgment. I was already lost in the sky and you’re my personal high. No words were ever spoken, but actions were taken. Who knew innocent smiles and unlooked-for touches can feel like sunshine breaking on your skin? But let me ask you, can I be your high too?
It was on a bus and I feel you everywhere. I can your feel your gaze and as if you knew, right on cue, chills run down my spine. When random walks to our stop became my silent pleas of “I’ll see you” and “where are you”, not “I’ll wait for you” because I have no right to. And as if it’s a privilege to be ignored by you, I bathed in it too. I held my tongue before I get to ask you, “Am I not enough for you to make your move?” I could but I don’t own you, instead, I looked far ahead as if I didn’t see you.
It was on a bus where my heart was already on the line. In a room with four wheels, four corners and a sea of natives, you used it as an abyss. Yes, you kept me at bay and took your sweet time. I hoped, don’t you mind? I hoped and it’s way past my bedtime, “Are you man enough to take the next mile?” Your reply was nothing more than a broken line, and all that’s left in me was the ghost of my smile.
It was on a bus and I longed for your presence to envelop me. Just like the remnants of my smile, you left without even saying goodbye. I knew you’ve got magic, but I didn’t know you also use it for something tragic. I know I shouldn’t feel the way I do, but would you blame me if I fell for you?
There was no longer a bus but I can’t seem to get off the ride. We’re already the ghosts of our pasts and 19,723 hours has already passed. I deserved the world with lingering eyes, yet I settled for your wandering eyes. Two truths and a set of lies, you said it’s a compromise. Here I am with thoughts of you, I’m nowhere near from sobering up. I’m still so high for the final drop, and you still haunt me on every bus stop. I just want to find someone new; someone, who wouldn’t remind me of you; someone who’d make me feel brand new.
Now I go back to where it all began.
I used to think our story was one for the books, and I was right. I’m still right. Our story is one for the books because I lived in a world that only the two of us knew. There were spectators, but none of them really knew. And out of all the truth that’s been haunting me, this is one I wish I didn’t have to see:
If I would be a book in your library, I’d be this: The book you always opened but never read.