Us

By : Jessy Marty R. Loardi

I sat in the middle of the night as the wind rustled in my hair. The air was thick– too thick– making me breathless. As I recall back to when we were “us,” the moonlight discreetly illuminated upon me. Longing you by my side, I gazed at the stars. Then the memories flooded back, I felt a rivulet trace down my lips.

My smile widened across my face, like the thrill I had every time I was about to encounter a sight of you. Our silences were always louder than the words we said. When we did speak, the words we said always deviated from what we meant. Playful flirts, endless teasing, chuckles skipping our sighs. Our hands intertwined, locking us in a joke we could never untie. It felt just like a joke, didn’t it?

My heart beated like the strings of the guitar I used to play for you, each melody creating maladies we could not cure. The songs my lips dedicated to you attached my heart too. Our voices intermingled, creating a harmony only I could hear. It felt just like a meaningless mumble, didn’t it?

The wind that once rustled in my hair now carried whispers of regret. The regrets of never speaking up. I wonder if I’m in your head as often as you are in mine, regretting the chances we never get. Even if it was just a secret, did you regret it? The lives we only live vicariously echoing your head? The poems you never received buried deep within the gardens of Babylon? The what-ifs and what-could-have-beens? The ghosts of lost chances haunting you? Do they still haunt you too?