The Water

By: William Andrew G. Bulaquea

At first, it was cold;
After some time, it was warm;
Then, it was cold once more
And, never was it warm again.

The discreet droplets that poured;

It bothered but never was noticed;
But these turned into waves that drowned.
As chance stared upon, it turn warm.
The endearing was kind and caring.

I kept holding on your hands;

I am weary and tired but still, I hold on
You dont want to be touched by me
Yet, still, I hold on to your hands, hold on to you dearly;
You go away; I come near;
You push me; I keep close to you
You were happy with someone;
I was smiling but was devastated inside;
I dont want to see the hurtful scene;
Yet, I keep seeing it I cant seem to avoid it;
It hurts; shatters; I dont know this feeling;
You were once very close but now youve drifted away;
Did time change you? Or is it me rather?

This pain keeps hunting me;

I cant stand firm; Im wavering; Im being unstable;
But now, i came to a decision;
To let go of the hands that I hold on for a long time;
I will let go; and, if you keep drifting away,
I will not hold on anymore cause I have done so much.
This feeling; this should be mutual;
Thats why, if you dont come close to me again;
I will let go; I will not concern myself anymore;
Youre free anyways to decide for your own;
Im just being selfish; for that, Im sorry;
Now, I dont hope for anything anymore;
I will continue to live with my life;
I will find someone who will also hold on to me;
I will find someone who also will reach out their hand;
Not me alone, but two hands holding to each other;
Thats the feeling I want. Not this feeling now. This hurtful feeling. I dont want this.