Nothing was meant to be, and yet we met.
We had what few people could even understand.

I was dumb with the feelings I had for people—
with every other soul, I have felt,
I had an abundance of love to share.

And then you happened.
I wanted to share with you everything I had,
all my forms of love, my impulsively naive love!

How impulsive was I?

I was anxious
when I was told to come see you—
anxieties many say I shouldn’t have felt
had I been with “the right one”.

I still felt a constant fear
of being stood up that day.
I was often correct,
but I tried convincing myself
that perhaps,
you were busy planning a life for us?

Where was I heading?
Was I beside you
when you imagined for yourself
some house on some street?

I know
I was contributing too much too early in love
and was expecting immediate returns.

Why is it that
I couldn’t see a minute’s worth of effort from you—
to acknowledge me or my inputs

Why did you
call me to meet,
and yet never arrive,
show me the happy side of our relationship,
and hide the billows that got between us,
hideaway every wave,
keeping things from heating up?

Why didn’t we fight and mend each other?

Why did we have to overlook things
only for them to come back to
me, alone in the darkness of my room?

Why did everything with you feel just right a while ago,
and what’s with this sudden pain?

Do I need closure?

Just as
my impulsiveness
perhaps conveyed to you that I’m a mess,
it’s made me realise
that you’re too immature
to help me clear the mess.

What do I expect out of someone
who couldn’t be around at my worst?
A long life under the stars and the moon?

Such a naive caterpillar!

I could have waited for love to bloom,
but only if it had taken
the slightest of forms.