On my way home from my doctor, I found an empty seat before me. I decided to ride a jeepney and left my car on the parking lot.
By the morning tomorrow, it would be stolen, for sure—I left my keys stuck in the ignition. No problem with that when it mattered no more—it was once ours and I did not need a daily reminder of our short existence.
I would always die for the edge of the blade that would sink into my pale skin—its sting would ease out my tension and bring my chest its rightful serenity. This was my routine even after I met you. I feared you would forsake me, but you embraced my filthy habit yet you tried to change me.
I apologized when I could not be wavered by your effort.
I never knew pain and desperation until you left me—you were tired and thought that I would go fine; you thought I would be better if you would leave me where we first met. Try to think the number of open wounds I had to stitch, just to get by.
The vehicle paused beneath the stop light. Beside the jeepney was another of its kind. It struck me how the woman inside my ride and the man on the other side were eyeing the roads ahead, missing the kisses of their eyes. What would happen if their eyes meet?
Maybe that was us—two persons looking far from here with two eyes never meeting and two hearts bound not to be married.
WORD COUNT: 263
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.