Jeepney
Ten seconds.
All it had to do was leave ten seconds earlier than it did.
But it didn’t. It couldn’t. It wouldn’t. Not until you’re aboard, the fates seemed to whisper.
So there you were, right in front me. Why’d you have to sit opposite me?
There you were, right in front of me, so close yet so far. A smile began tugging at the corners of my lips as my eyes began to water. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My heart raced and ached at the same time.
So close, yet so far. Again and again. How many times have we been here?
I spotted your soft hand and remembered how many millions of seconds I spent holding that very hand in my own. I saw your shiny hair and remembered how many thousands of minutes I spent waiting for you to fix it. I got a glimpse of your perfect lips and remember how many hundreds of hours I spent paying attention to every little thing that comes from between them.
I looked into your eyes…and you looked right back into mine.
I spotted your hand again and remembered that I couldn’t hold it any longer, it belonged to someone else. I saw your hair and remembered that I haven’t seen you fix it in ages, someone else does that now. I got a glimpse of your lips and remembered that I refused to listen to anything that comes from between them in order to protect myself.
I looked into your eyes…and you looked right back into mine…and I saw nothing.
No spark of love. Emptiness. A dark abyss. Not even a hint of recognition.
My world went into a shattering halt. It was so sudden that I even swayed a bit.
I watched you get up from that wretched seat and get off the damned jeepney. You never looked back, not even for a fraction of second. What if you had forgotten something in the jeepney, huh?
On second thought, you never did look back. You look on forward, not minding what you leave behind, looking on to what’s waiting for you.
You never looked back. You didn’t mind me as you left me behind. You looked on forward, where he was waiting for you.
Sometimes, the stories just happen. And they forcibly write themselves.
All it had to do was leave ten seconds earlier than it did.
But it didn’t. It couldn’t. It wouldn’t. Not until you’re aboard, the fates seemed to whisper.
So there you were, right in front me. Why’d you have to sit opposite me?
There you were, right in front of me, so close yet so far. A smile began tugging at the corners of my lips as my eyes began to water. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My heart raced and ached at the same time.
So close, yet so far. Again and again. How many times have we been here?
I spotted your soft hand and remembered how many millions of seconds I spent holding that very hand in my own. I saw your shiny hair and remembered how many thousands of minutes I spent waiting for you to fix it. I got a glimpse of your perfect lips and remember how many hundreds of hours I spent paying attention to every little thing that comes from between them.
I looked into your eyes…and you looked right back into mine.
I spotted your hand again and remembered that I couldn’t hold it any longer, it belonged to someone else. I saw your hair and remembered that I haven’t seen you fix it in ages, someone else does that now. I got a glimpse of your lips and remembered that I refused to listen to anything that comes from between them in order to protect myself.
I looked into your eyes…and you looked right back into mine…and I saw nothing.
No spark of love. Emptiness. A dark abyss. Not even a hint of recognition.
My world went into a shattering halt. It was so sudden that I even swayed a bit.
I watched you get up from that wretched seat and get off the damned jeepney. You never looked back, not even for a fraction of second. What if you had forgotten something in the jeepney, huh?
On second thought, you never did look back. You look on forward, not minding what you leave behind, looking on to what’s waiting for you.
You never looked back. You didn’t mind me as you left me behind. You looked on forward, where he was waiting for you.
Sometimes, the stories just happen. And they forcibly write themselves.