Poetry/ Stories

I wish it was you

I wish it was you who I loved dearly.  I wish that I had chosen you among all the others. I wish I could’ve seen the beauty of your eyes, the warmth of your smile, the silliness of your actions, the feeling that you give me. I wish I could’ve understood my feelings more so that I wouldn’t have to lose you, but I did and I can’t blame you. I can only blame me.

How I often rely on hopeless, sweet, passionate dreams of us. Dreams are just dreams, and it is far from reality, it is far from you and I, it is far from the idea of “us”. I thought that one day, we would smile and walk hand in hand. That one day we could go to the movies, amusement parks, libraries, all the world that offers for us to see. But no, I just had to give you up and let you go. I just had to remember all the burdens of the past, present and future. I had to remember people and my responsibility. I had to remind myself that I don’t have the freedom to be reckless.

I wish I had loved you more. I wish that I had talked to you more, but I couldn’t. Not now, not when I’m so weak, not when I’m so broken, not when I’m so dead inside. I couldn’t love you, but I always had the desire, the dream to love you.

I wish it was you who smiled at me, who talked to me, who sits beside me, who laughs with me, who cries with me, but like what I have said, there is only an idea of ‘us’, not a reality of us. We were never together because we were both scared. We were never together because we were both broken. We couldn’t end up together because the pieces of our hearts, the beats of our hearts, just couldn’t match. I wish it could’ve been you who filled up all my empty spaces. Sadly, it isn’t you. Nor is it me that has the power to fix you.

I love you so much, and you just don’t know the pain of it all. But who could blame you? We were just souls that crossed paths. We were just broken pieces that never fit to each other. We were just you and I, not ‘us’. I miss you though. I miss the thought of you and it pains me to let you go, but I have to because it seems that you’ve finally found the pieces that fill your empty spaces.

After all, I am nothing but a second choice, a back up. I’m nothing but dust to you.

It’s okay though, I’m nothing to myself either.



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