I once wished we were diamond blue.
hurrying to the gates of hope,
wishing for us to turn to violent delights
rather than foolishly fall to our demise.
I once held our hellish moments in my palms
where palms once meant a thing of praying
and our moments were small enough to fit in them.
but now all they are is a pair of flesh and bone, holding
imaginary scenarios that were never shared between us.
I never thought I’d hold my breath when uttering three simple words
that I knew deep inside would never be returned.
and isn’t that the most hurtful thing?
unrequited love. the kind you can never change or take back
or wish for something better because it can’t.
and you pray
and you pointlessly wish for empty palms and a sacred heart.
but you know it’s all in vain because he’s gone and the feeling along with him.
and the next thing you know is you’re flying on an airplane to the other side of the world
hoping that the distance will create a hole between you and him
and your unrequited love that can never be deleted or postponed.
and he apologizes and you cry and there’s nothing left in your eye
but a glimpse of hope that maybe it is something worth praying for.
worth wishing for, worth waiting for.
Except. You’re waiting for the wrong one. And no matter how hard it is letting go,
it feels easier when you know that you’re only making space for
the right one that will one day bring love bigger than your pray-less palms and your sacred heart.