Sunday, February 19, 2012

Painted Dream I19I

I fell in love again with you last night. That inevitable feeling I tried to escape found its way home, to my heart. You were like a tiny little creature, fragile and delicate I felt like holding you in my hand and protect you from any malicious creature out there.

I envisaged myself as your guardian angel. Equipped with all shining armour, a sword and of course, a scruffy yet impeccably flawless face similar to Ramueldo, the Italian heartthrob in the story The Cave of The Golden Flower.

Now who could deny that face I would like to name a very fuckable one. Alright pardon the language. I just need to highlight that.

How are you today?
Much better I think. But I’m running out of Polleney.
What the hell is that?

Apparently Polleney is a bottle of fish oil (catfish I think) consumed during fever. I had no idea until that point of time. A revelation indeed. I am just trying to be funny here. If it doesn’t work, pay no heed to that.

Jadi ke benda tu?
Jadi. Mak suruh minum.

I fancied that. You were using just ‘Mak’ instead of ‘Mak I’ or ‘Mak saya’ or ‘My Mom’. I felt special.

Orang minum semalam. It worked apparently. Still sore but much better than last night.

Orang.

Another of my sheer weakness. My kryptonite. Every time you used that, I felt so dear, so close to you. I learnt that for the first time from you. As a matter of fact, every time people use that nowadays, my knees will tremble. My mind will directly go to you.

Emm could you come and pick me up today? Nak beli benda tu lah.
Can you walk?Can you even get off from bed?
Will try. Have to sebab mak suruh org minum sampai demam kebah.
Stay in bed ok. I’ll get them for you.
Tapi orang tak nak susahkan you.
…..

I left the last message un-replied. One thing I am certain about you was that you were such a hardheaded person. If you say no, it means no. End of story. Any dispute and it will lead to a massive and robust argument.

I have experienced it many times to a certain extent I have become immune to it.

p.s. This is turning into some lame love story isn’t? 

No comments:

Post a Comment