Muse

It was a patchwork of dreams with fragments of faces swirling all over the fringes of the unconscious. So wondrous the creation of the mind and all I remembered were those chocolate covered beans. You were standing beside and I could almost smell you like I smell them coffee beans. But why does the face slips my memory every time? As if I'm not suppose to remember you. As if you weren't suppose to be there. There and again, all whom walked beside me all fade like they never existed. It's unfair that all of you tempt me with the unpublished memoirs and make me forget what I had once remembered, once upheld, once wanted.

Trying so hard to hold you in a blink of an eye and yet when the morning intrudes, you excused yourself nonchalantly. I am left to savour what bits and pieces of that dream salvaged. At 23 and still clinging onto the abstractness of a thought. And for sometime now that line between your world and mind has long blurred. And when that line is rubbed away finally, I don't think I'll exist anymore.

The chocolate covered beans waft away and I stood where the sun meets the horizon. And I remember your words, I remember your shaded figure by the water.

Find the water jasmine in the River Morales, you said...