Muscle Memory

I haven’t stared at my ceilings in a long time,
Fearing the floor on my back that may bring with it days of headache, headache for days
Fearing the light on my eyes that may bring with it days of head pain, head pain for days
Fearing the allure of wasted time that may tie me down to the floor on my back,
And the blinding light on my sight, deafening my sense of the ticking of the clock
Leaving me in a silent, motionless battle with my own, jumbled feelings as jumbled sentences in my own jumbled thoughts — I fear my own endless, messy possibility.

But now the floor calls for me to lay my worries down on its cold, unfeeling surface
And perhaps then the coldness would seep to my chest, numbing the warmth that just started to spread on my long-dead dreams of blooming peonies in my garden
The sun just started to kiss its blushing petals with warmth, and look at me being scared,
Of letting a creature of the sun grow as it’s meant to glow, as it’s meant to be cared for.
So, why would I seek warmth when for years I had convinced myself I am immune to the cold?

And perhaps the warmest of people are created amidst the coldest of days
— for the coldest of days.
How else would you explain a child of the winter that’s so fiery bright,
So alit with passion, adorned with unfaltering smiles, and enshrouded by such cordial rays?
How else would you explain a warm presence that wraps you so tight,
He refuses to let go until all the ice on your smile has melted
And even then, still he doesn’t let go.

So, how do you deny an existence that is so loud, so overwhelmingly bright on your front,
So bizarre you can’t find the right amount of absurdity to describe his being?
So unnecessarily bright that in every dim parking lot, in every dark theatre, in every rainy night, every blurry sight on the backseat of the car while listening to cheap pop songs,
You find, so vivid, his crescent-moon eyes as they teach you that so must your smile be shaped,
They teach you to love your own smile, to be proud of your own reflection
And I haven’t, in a while, been in love with my own smile.
How do you deny an existence that makes you realise the worth of your own?

Perhaps I saw you in a dream some many days ago,
And I was afraid to touch that packed-up warmth, fearing this was all a dream
A delusion of what I had, for so long, craved but didn’t want to admit.
Sunlight packed in a bag of joyful memories, tempting like fire during cold winter days;
I fear you were an illusion of warmth during my fever dreams,
During my cold-ridden nights from the long gazing by the floor throughout winter blues.

I fear you were danger wrapped in an elaborate sense of security.
But my senses remember what it felt like to fall head first, no care to the wind, stupidly in love — so quick, so deep.

And just how wonderful is the feeling of falling,
As much as it is the most horrible feeling in the world.
Your heart skips a beat just at the simplest thought of their absurd jokes, or random sentences.
Sights that remind you of them, songs you listened to together.

But then there’s the unknowing,
The knowledge of not-having-a-safety-net-below.
The knowing of your mutual attraction, but at the same time your mutual fears.

How wonderfully annoying it is to fall for someone, so wonderfully addictive.