The first time our eyes met, you were looking at a tired eyes, sick soul, and a dead heart. But I was smiling because I have to. You were a familiar stranger, under the stars on your guitar. My eyes doesn’t know you, but it was weird how my soul seemed to recognize your glances and your voice.
I shrugged off the feeling, because you can’t be that deep. No man, is that deep.
I remember how messy my life was, the first time we met. I was deliriously lost, broken, and I was very convinced that I’m a piece of trash. When I opened up to you the burdens I had in me, I didn’t expected you to really listen. But you did. And in spite being all-dramatic, and all-negative, you stayed on the line and you never made me feel like I’m a waste of your time.
I was so amazed of your grace, I didn’t believed that you’re true. I pushed you away, but you stayed.
I bombarded you with my bitter questions, when we sat on the top of that famous rock, facing the pacific. And when I looked at you, I was waiting for you to respond but you didn’t. Then I saw your eyes. How can your sad eyes be true?
I remember talking to you on that old island bridge under the bluest sky, you looked at me like I’m a bliss, I searched for someone else on the bridge, because it can’t be me that you’re looking. But it was me. Like I’m perfect. That in-spite the wonderful sight, you chose to look and smile at me.
I remember looking at that August full moon, while you sang me my favorite songs that perfectly blended with the ocean’s breeze. You looked at my eyes like it was the reason why you’re breathing. You offered me the best of your melodies, like I’m a full-packed concert hall. If you can remember, I unconsciously touched your face, like how I unconsciously touch something beautiful; like a flower, like touching a cute kid at the mall, like raising my hand at a sunset, but it felt more like touching a fire under the moon without burning. But I told myself, “You can’t be true.”
Months has passed but you’re still just around mastering what to do with me when I sulk. You respected my need to heal, and understood the ugly things you’re not supposed to be seeing.
Then the next thing I know, your name became my favorite name to appear in my phone when it beeps. You became the first person I call when I see something funny. I found myself getting excited to go home because home is when I can talk to you about how I was able to survive the day. Then I started to hear my loud laugh again, I started to wear my Sunday dresses on Mondays. I finally believed that my smiles are as meaningful as amber, and my soul is a galaxy.
Then when I think of myself, I smile, like a happy smile, not because I’m happy, but because finally, I am seeing myself beautiful because all this time, you were true.