Blue Envelopes

You in Tunnels

You in Tunnels

They say we are all made different. We have our own narratives and dictions on how we repeatedly say our name in front of a relatable book. Oftentimes, I look at it plainly. Irrelevant. Nonexistent. Forgettable. I never ask for someone to break the chain and fly me away. I was lost—with no idea where I was heading and no hope that things would ever change. But amazingly, I saw colors the moment I wrote down things about you. Your stares like I'm worth of your every gaze. The color of your hair, the ocean in your eyes, and the poems that you speak. It's all written in me, metaphorically. Yet there was never a slow motion. Only Pearly Dewdrops' Drop was playing in my mind imagining you in a tunnel approaching the force of the wind outside the windows of the car.

I always tell to myself that I don't want to be found. But this magnetic force makes me feel like it's you where I belong. They say that nothing is going to be fixed what was left in our past, but I can change those cruel papers so I could write beautiful proses about us.

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