Valentine's Lesson

I feel it's pointless to say anymore.
I have pleaded and ranted.
It really, doesn't matter, if nothing ever happens.

I'm cured.
I tell things to people selectively now.
At this stage I'm putting myself together.
However hard the pain ebbed in my heart, I can't break down now.
I'm suspended in this hollow cell.
Hearing my heartbeat that goes,
Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

Now when it becomes part of you, hurt means nothing to you anymore.
How I'm I loving it, bringing pain upon myself.
Haha.
All that hope that I put in, it seems nothing more than dust in the wind now.

Such an escapade so addictive, I could hardly contain myself.
I've asked for something little.
So little, it was barely even a scratch on the surface of this whole profound feeling.
But it seems that Fate couldn't even spare a morsel.

Living life in such suffering like me is like eating liqueur chocolates.

Peeling off the wrapper gingerly, what one would anticipate is the sweetness of milk chocolate and the fiery burn of the whiskey within.

Then one would receive Warmth.
Warmth, from those embrace.
And of course, the sweetness.
It brings forth Joy.
Joy, that is so snugly blended with those warm embrace.

But it so happened, that in my case, the liqueur spilled.
What was to be a pleasure experience turned out to be a sticky mess.

I ate what sheer luck had given, only the chocolate.

I'd tasted sweetness.
But I've got no warmth.
The chocolate is empty without the warmth.
And what lingered on my tongue was now sickening sweetness.

The very same thing that brought forth Joy, brought forth Wrath within my soul.
It's funny how some people choose to hate the thing they could never get.

Even I wanted to, as well.

I could have scrawled a piece of IOU and shove in his face.
Demand payment for every disappointment I received.
That would be sprawling onto the ground to lick up the spilled spirit off the floor.

It's selfish.
To ask someone to pay up a debt he had never really owed.
Everyone, in consolation or in view from their analysis, condemned him.
But I feel that it's my fault.
Blame me instead.

Oh no, I'm not trying to be noble around here.
At the very least, at the very end of my crazy antics, let me do something sane.
I'm disgusted with myself.
This is a filthy crime.

I have made more out of a mere ordinary stranger that just passed my life.
And I've smeared his name.
Please don't ever let him know about this.

All his irritation to my pestering can never be compared to the humiliation he would face.
There were pleasant memories.
So please, let memories be what that make the most of me.

In daily life, I avoid making promises.
I knew I don't have a will to fulfil them.
I had only ever let myself down.
On this issue, it's too many times.

I never know whether I can resist the temptation to gamble for little sweet treats again.
I don't know whether as I lay on the bed at night, will I not let my mind drift into rendevous fantasies once more.

I won't and can't promise anymore.

As for now, unlike this unexisting solace I'm have been long seeking for, I have lots more liqueur chocolates lying my fridge.

With careful handling, I managed to keep these chocolates intact.
And from these chocolates, I felt just that bit of the little I've asked for.

The Warmth from the whiskey.
It was almost as if I'm in an embrace.