Bleeding under the Sun

I’m bleeding in the sun. Blood rushed down my veins. Have you felt it? It was probably nothing, yet it felt as weighty as the whole universe. It sickening when the taste is getting familiar to me.

I wonder what love tastes like. Does it have a sweet taste? or is it sorrowful?

I see you walking towards me, grasping a knife on your back with red stains on it. Is it my blood, or another blood you bleed?

Does love taste like this? Why does everyone long for this?

Your sweet words and treat fuel mine. It intoxicating, stripped me down, and rendered me senseless. It's getting confusing, mesmerizing yet terrifying at once.

Ah, turns out it tastes sweet and sugary.

Parts of me died in a short time and I visit them in a dream. It graves my sense, trust, and love. When it pays me a visit, I hope I’ll be prepared enough.

I guess it colors me a dark sorrowful than a bright sunshine to my life?

I mourn what could have been, what will not be, and what I hope it would have been.

I was craving you at first and nothing much unless it was a game to win or to lose, yet I won with the blood and scars left marks on my skin, as a consequence.

I’m almost scared of the intensity of joy you brought to us and how magnificent you are as a whole. I’ve seen you under the morning light, or in a serene Saturday night covered with the dim of the full moon and you with the ragging waves behind, and stars above, and hope it crawled us together.

Everything felt obvious yet apparent, you walked me through profound times of sharing feelings, showered me with affection and threw me right after with truth and bringing a lump to my throat. It taps a gun to me, drew a big gap hole, and each pieces of them scattered. And you were there to pick them up, collecting like it was a puzzle and brought me the completed-cracked one.

But here I am, giving another shot, with a broader heart and much more prepared and compromised. I wish this was not just another almost, I wish it was full, it bleeds me the right way, and it turned out okay.

I wish it still you carrying my groceries bag and accompanying me to supermarket, I wish it still you randomly cracking my finger on a road as we drove home, I wish it was still you drinking a deep black americano beside my lattes. I wish your warm palm remained on my hands. I wish it would always be you.