You Bring Me Magic

I love all these magical feeling you gave me.

You tiptoed on my heart in small steps,

Definitely you, you're my most faithful pilgrim.

You break my doubts in delicacy,

All the agonies lost in one breath of fresh air.

You lift up all my sullen in a flash of light,

Then the dew in my mind starts to feed the sunflower field.

I love how you're upper lip kinked when you say, "Tea, Eat, and Soberness."

When you call my name it feels like the raindrops on my window return to the sky, and the golden sun starts to shine again.

When you pat your pals' shoulder, the nature can't help but send this beautiful breeze, and the trees bend to hinder the heat. To protect you.

When you laugh, I don't need my sweaters in the winter anymore. I don't need fireplace. I don't need any soft blankets. Just that majestic sound. Your laugh.

I can't stop myself to wonder what it would be if you say, "I love you," to me.

Maybe, just maybe.

We meet at a cafe and it's in the end of autumn. We can still see the falling leaves. Reddish, golden, all over the park benches. But the air we breath is winter's air. 

The sunlight is dim, and it's really cold outside.

I just finished my assignments, picking up my books, my bag, and my laptop, ready to go outside after ordering another coffee in a plastic cup. The Script's song starts to play, and I'll sigh, "What a lovely melody."

You're about to warm yourself up, walking down the street to the cafe, eager to go inside to order a cup of latte. The wind blows, you hear The Script's song from the cafe, and you'll whisper, "What a lovely scenery."

We both thinking about each other. We both murmuring each other's name. We both wondering where each other is, when I see you getting closer to the door that I will through.

I hold my breath, parted. I want you to see me, but I'm too scared if you do. My feet turns to jelly, and all the sound disappear. "I wish you knew."

I hear my heart beating so loud. You walk through the door in fall's light. And you see me. You. See. Me.

We stop and stare. We're forced to believe the reality. All I can say is, "Hey, How's life?"

And you're like, "I'm good. "I'm fine."

Silence. Calming silence. I don't want to break it but. "I-"

You stutter too. We both do. But unlike every other boy I know, you don't say,"You first."

You just run your hand through your hair, smile, and say, "I'm about to tell you a big thing."

And I'm absolutely in love with the way you say 'A big thing', and not 'Something'.

I'll reply, "Is it a good news? It better be."

If it's a movie, the next scene will be like this:

The falling leaves will float in the air. My mouth hanging open, then I'll replace it with smile. Your smile widened, your eyes shining. The Script playing the most magnificent song I've ever heard, even thought I'm not sure that song exist in this world. Everyone stay there, smiling, cheering.

That's the moment when you say "I love you," to me.

But again, maybe. Just maybe. I'm right here hoping.

You gave me, and still giving me these magical feeling. You fill magic to my life. It's true.

You bring me magic.

Undescribed Miracle

Love actually is a physics philosophy.

We can't decide how to act. 

It needs logic, but the logic is abstract. 

It's almost fix and not totally exact.

It demands a lot of explanation, but you'll need the whole clear-cut and or imaginary reasons to prove it.

Love is complicated. Sometimes difficult.

It can be humble, it can be perfectly modest.

It can be luxurious, sparkling, and all the diva-related tags.

Love is more than "I'm the Bonnie to your Clyde. You're the moon and I'm the tide.."

It is a gazillion times more than "You jump, I jump."

Trust me, when this wonderful feeling comes to you, it worths the world and your own life. And no movies, poems, songs, novels, plays, can compare to yours. Cause no love alike. No love similar. God is too mighty and creative to make such a masterpiece twice.

If I had to choose how to describe it, I'll choose the way Aristotle and Napoleon Bonaparte did. Or even The Beatles.

"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies," and the famous 'To Destiny' graven necklace. The other side of my heart starts telling me "Love is old, love is new, love is all, love is you."

I don't know, I can't describe it. One of difficult things about love is definitely this. Trying to figure out Love definition itself. The difficulty makes me constantly telling myself that it's the charm that the part of your soul cast whenever a person going to be a part of your life. Or your memories. It's the melody no one else can hear. It's a soap opera you watch inside your mind, and you don't mind to be the part of it. It's a miracle. Undescribed miracle.

So I found it, Love is Undescribed Miracle.

The Book Of Impossibility

At the dawn in the corner of my mind, I always find a spot that has this eternal thirst for an old undiscovered book, with dust coated it. And for some reasons I imagine it as a big blue book, more like Brian Selznick's Wonderstruck, but the cover's a lot darker, no light (or lightning bolt), with black lining and embossed with gold letters. There's more than a thousand page to flip, and every single page is as exciting as the first time you open the book, and read the Dedication Page. 

The book is thrilling, inviting your heart to dance under the dim light of the moon, and then break it with eerie screams and fire of riots. 

But there's also the chapters about finding truths, loyalty, honesty, and the most important, love. Tons of love that'll never make you bored. Loves that you've never discovered before, and will never find in another book after this. Every love of every pairs holds its own beauty, intricate details, and enough amount of fresh, but a bit cliche pick up line. Each story will bring you up and down, with conflicts that entwined with the thrilling side of the book. I think this comes from F. Scott Fitzgerald's quote: "There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice."

This is the book that nobody thought would be written before. It's the lost book of the middle century, but the story was never been read, never been written, never been told, never been thought at that time. It was the book of affection, rage, passion, pain, laughter, and the sweet of silenced lies. The book of prophecy and and all of love inequalities. The book of untold stories and extraordinary adventures, fantasies, and journeys. Something you've never expected before.

It cleans up the line between light and dark, and it clears up the limitation of fears and spirit. The book that the soul will never grow old. The book that nobody thought would exist.

You can always follow every words in the peace of the dawn. With transparent, lace-like plot twists. 

You can always smile and keep questioning even if you've read it a hundred times.

You can always drawn to the emotion of the ladies and the men, the moon and the stars, the flame and the ice.

And you will keep wondering about the Dedication Page after you read it.

"To my little angel, and to all her little angels. 

To melody of sacrifice, and all the scars it left.

To the autumn, and all the leaves that turned to red." 

It's The Book Of Impossibility.