Drab

I didn’t want to face the day today.

I knew I had so much to make up for and maybe that’s why.

But maybe also because I missed you. I missed you a lot more than I usually do. And when I miss you it angers me. It annoys me that we had to go through so much only to end up separate, each one watching the other from safely built up walls. It annoys me that I can’t walk over to your steel gates and knock even though I know you will open and let me. It angers me that even though you’ve been knocking at mine I will not open even though I think about it a lot.

The sun invaded the darkness of my dreams, scattering the shadows and smiling a lot more hopefully than I cared to acknowledge. It smiled at my gloom and tried to shake me out of it but I refused to let it go. The glum feeling was what kept me a little connected to you.

I went through the motions of the day, trying this and that hoping that it would help me cope with the loss of you. It never works but I still try everyday anyway.

The night reflects what I feel; dark, drab, hopeless. I’ll go back into my sleep and there maybe I’ll have the courage to let you in when you knock.

Dru_Dru

First Thing’s First

First thing’s first, I miss you.

Now that that has been established, I don’t know what else to write.

I always thought I’d be able to pen down all the things I had to say to you. Articulate everything elaborately, so that you get exactly the emotion and meaning of my words. And yet here I am, having been given the opportunity to do that and failing because the thing that is screaming loudest in my head is that I miss you.

I look at you and my brain swoons. How dare it? At the time I need it to be its most sensible! It instead decides to bring out all the memories it neatly packed and boxed; framed photographs of you with hearts strewn all over the place and other shenanigans of that nature. It has joined heart and I’m here standing alone not even sure how I’m still standing because my knees gave way the moment my nose caught onto your cologne.

Sigh.

I’m fighting a losing battle against myself but I refuse to give up. I will give you a piece of my mind once it comes to its senses, if ever. It may never. We grew too attached to you and now we stop every few steps not sure where to go because you knew the terrain better. We get lost a lot.

You were a big part of me but now I have to be that part for myself. I don’t really want to.

Dru_Dru

Scented Air

I am not certain as to whether my mind creates it, or whether the air does actually hold your scent. Of course, my passing through a busy kitchen would remind me of you. You did smell like a braiied chicken most days. But you also smelt of lemons and hibiscus, something uncommon.

You complained often of your hands smelling like onions after you expertly diced them right before you threw them into a pot full of oil to create a masterpiece. You loved how the aroma of garlic and ginger spread through the room as you meticulously followed the steps of your recipes.

You loved it. The food, the process of making it in a way you had never done before, watching others sit at tables and enjoy it. You loved the aroma of a good, hot meal as it was served before an expectant and eager young man or woman who would be your guinea pig for the day.

I loved watching you love what you do. I tried to do it like you, but I never quite got it right. I still don’t. I can’t dice my onions and I hate garlic. I still try to recreate your recipes every now and then. But it just makes me sad that the scent is never quite as distinguished as it should be.

I know I will never get it right, but I get into the kitchen anyway because a little part of you still lives on there, and I miss you.

Dru_Dru