Becoming a Memory

Just last month before the holidays started, I went out and saw a man I was seeing for a couple months for the last time.

We had a nice time together, that cold winter’s day, with a lot of plans in mind for our future dates… A to-do list that just kept on growing, and time together that just kept getting shorter and shorter by the day.

That afternoon, we went to watch a movie. It was worth pointing out that one of its character had a nihilistic point of view of life similar to his… My bright-eyed curiosity was stirred by the reality of the movie’s subject of social media’s affectation on people and their relationships with others around them; and his blithe fazed by it. For once, he had a serious look upon his face.

After the film, we both stayed quiet as we walked down towards Tottenham Court Road. It just made me realise something, he said. It was unfair to keep me to himself as he knew he was going to go soon. He’s a wandering soul, and his heart belongs to the places he has yet to venture off to. I assured him I was quite sure about my decision to dedicate my attention to him. I mind him leaving; but I had myself prepared even before we started.

Spending a couple more hours together did not improve the mood of the altered atmosphere hanging above us. Our little bubble was near to bursting but still, with its soapy bonds, holding on to keep whatever we have to linger for a little bit longer that evening.

He walked me towards the underground from his transient home stay, both of us nonchalantly trying to make it seem as if nothing has changed.

I had to break the silence.

“I was waiting for you to say something earlier,” I told him.

What is it, he asked. Stubbornly holding his uncaring demeanor.

I sighed. “I was waiting for you to say that what we have right now is pointless. I know at some point I will just become a memory. Then, slowly, I will just fade into the background… You might even forget who I am.”

You stayed quiet for a moment as I held my breath waiting.

“Yes… And as you should already know, I never get attached.”

“I know. I do try my best not to get too attached either.”

“Good. What I’m wondering is… How do you know if one has become a memory?”

We were almost to the underground station… Walking moderate-paced, hand in hand.

I smiled at him and responded my thoughts: “When you look beside yourself and see that this girl with you now is not there anymore walking along by your side, that is when you know I have become a memory.”

We reached the road and the tube entrance was just across from where we were standing. “Well, miss,” you called to me for the final time, “I best just leave you here and head on back now.”

“Yup. Thank you and take care on your way.”

You kissed me on my lips as you usually do before we part ways. “You too.”

I crossed the road, went down, and boarded the train home.


I Love You Still

i look back in time
when you last held my hand

a clear pool of glee
reflected upon the eyes
but that was long long ago

to and fro, past to now
i can’t help it really
i’m under love’s command

it’s blisses’ blunder
i went too under
too deep and too low

lately i’ve been busy
i occupy myself with books
would it have help me to forget

picking up the emotions
from where i have had left it
and then comes realization

memories cherished
“i love you still” uttered
a messaged i would’ve to regret

a smile in reply
having two meanings implied
giving a sinking sensation

9:30 eve//

just as same as any girl
as normal as any other
stricken with love
as the mind far off wanders

looking for a crack of light
in the dim dark dwelling
searching for a certain warmth
amongst cold chilling

why keep persistence
in a vague certainty
is all in the heart
in faith in her destiny

resounding waves of anguish
tap against the pavement still
beating the heart strings to sing
as to cover the void to fill

will forever lurk in abyssmal state
as the grieving soul in her pain
continuing on her quest
as sure as love’s existent bane.

and i turn to myself to reflect
if what i saw in my own sea was real
sharp shattering in lonesome quirk
of how one differs from what another feels

in dismal fear and calmness
and in my sad state,
i bow low my head
in acceptance of my fate.
February 21, 2005