Sieged

It was not much of a greater desire to conjure everything to words but naturally, it comes out. From greater depths, they emerge in perfect forms --- consummated connotations. To define and describe, I begin with the souls’ windows. I stare at those crystal eyes and they stare back, amazingly. It is like gazing at the sky, placid. A burning sensation there is, like the radiating heat of the burning sunshine. It tortures my feelings but staring at it gives me a sense of belonging, a sense of attachment --- not shallow nor deep; just. I sense a dilemma as I gaze at that red flesh in his visage. A part of me hesitates and twists, a part of me denies the likeness. Sometimes, I misunderstood the magic whenever those lushy flesh touch mine. The sincerity and warmth, he makes me feel alive. Sometimes I feign not to feel extraordinary for I know I can never be candid to tell him that it was so magical, yet peculiar. I guess holding his hand, too, is magical. I can feel how his fingers fit almost perfectly in the spaces between mine. It makes me feel secured which brings me to an assumption, possibly, that he will not let go of it. Of course, I do not depend on false hopes alone. Though my imagination of him holding on can be sloughed off, I know, as long as I got him, I will never let go. Besides, I love how his hand carelessly brushes to my cheek whenever he wants to show that he adores me. He treats me as his good friend. I think it is sweet and I like it, but sometimes I shyly admit it. I know he does not what most usually do, but he does something unique, something quite new. Even though he irritates me with his indifferent acts, he still can paint a fresh smile on my face. He knows the best time to cheer me up. I know he is always there, he stays. As days gone by, I can say I knew him little by little as he knew me. As wishes are wished, I hope lots of days would still come when it will rain chances for this affair to become a little sweeter, much changed.