Come home, brave sailor.

I see you and I know you’re not aware that I do but its okay. I see the way your smiles take effort, how your eyes turn to empty bottles of beers you drank last night when everyone is sleeping. I can see how hard you try to be happy and how your laughter feels so untrue. How you’re there, here, but not really because some parts of you, if not all, will always belong to someone else, to her. I see the way your eyes search the crowd for any sign of her and how deep your sigh can be when you don’t find any. How you let your feet wander to places you both once walked. How you breakdown every time someone mention her. How your skin still longed for her warmth.  How you wish for her return even when she left without turning back, not even once.

No, you don’t need to be sorry for me, because I’m fully aware that it’s not our time yet or it will never be our time. You have one foot in the past and I have one in the future; so right now, we’re just abandoned pieces of ‘a could be” beautiful puzzle.

But still without hesitation, without complaint, I would still look at you and admire how you put the sunsets to shame, how the stars looks so dull compare to your eyes. You know what looking at you feels like? Like staring at a remote island, beautiful blue skies that electrifies your eyes, gives you shiver deep down your spine, utterly satisfying, amazing, magnificent and yet- lonely, empty. I have always been uncertain of everything, always hesitant and doubtful but with you, I have never felt so sure when your palm touches mine, never felt so sure every time you glance and direct a smile. No tsunamis or earthquakes could ever contest on how you make my body tremble every time your skin envelops mine.  You’re the kind of fire that I’d gladly bathe myself with fuel so you could come closer. You’re the kind of smoke that my lungs would appreciate. You’re the kind of drugs that I would never mind being medicated on. You’re the kind labyrinth that I’d let myself lost in.

And maybe one day, in a crowded room, you’d search for me instead? I will never get tired being your lighthouse trying to signal you home because you’ve been out there lost in the sea for quite a long time now. And don’t worry, I’m used to shipwrecks more than collecting treasures, of souls without bodies, of people who lost more than what they could’ve given.

I’m used to things not being close enough or things being close enough but I’m not really allowed to touch. I’m used to wanting things I should not want in the first place. Used to being given less more than I deserved or hoped to have.

I know my promise of home isn’t enough thrill for your wandering heart but won’t you try and stay for awhile? See how safety feels like, what home really means, how these arms can be your redemption, how a single touch can resuscitate the dead within us, and see how falling feels satisfying when you know someone is there to catch us. I’m ready to be your torch, I’m ready to light your way home. Just hold my hand and I promise I’ll take you home.

//Please try to listen to our song by the XX

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