Dreams and Desires

You're there again,

in a little corner, of sorts, where you used to hide.
a place where you could always run to and disappear,
an old place that by no means mean anything to you,
except that it's quiet and nobody's there and you can do whatever you want.

read, write, think.
whatever you want.

you haven't been there since..
well, it's been a while,

the same tables, the same chairs,
the same chip on the tile, the same marks on the same whiteboard
everything is the same as before...

this place preserved by time,

and you're there with your sling bag, and converse shoes, and your shirt and ripped jeans,
and it's like looking in a window of the past, as you paw through your bag,
as usual, reaching for a book.

when you hear it, a disturbance in the silent solace,
a shift in the air and in the quick skip of your heart-
you know.

you know, as you turn around and see
disheveled hair, skewed glasses,
smirk in tact.

you see him

you see his fingers stretched out for you
as his digits move forward and reaches for you
and in a short few seconds, your eyes meet his, and you can

feel him.

his hands cradling your face, and his thumb drawing circles on your cheek,
and it's all him

and you want to tell him, you want to speak to him, you want to hold him
but you can't.

cause this was before,
not now
this was then,
not now

'cause dreams are the epitome of our true heart's desire'

and he's always been yours-

and always will be.