and if only you knew how much she did love you when it lasted, you wouldn't have left. maybe. probably.
THE GIRL WHO SPIT FLOWERS.
a poetry narration book.
seopresso, 2017.
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like electrons colliding in its drift velocity, you pulled me through a crowd of gushing and excited teenagers, in an attempt to ensure i was right behind you.
you were excited. what was it that made you this ecstatic? did you find another secret location just for us to laugh and share the crescent shaped cookies your mum still made for us.
out into the openness where the bright sun rays hit my face and made me lift my hand to cover my face just so that i could see you. you look beguiled. enchanted.
you skipped a few steps, asking me whether i was excited too. i was so only because you were.
and then you pointed at what made you this intensely happy. i almost hated it. but then you still gleamed like you had everything conquered.
you pointed at the woman you wanted to woo and said, isn't she pretty?
