blue banisters, blue cafes, blue decembers, passing by like hues of you.

the pages of these old sketchbooks, from 2002 and 2003, sketched with a roadmap of my heart. binding torn and covers dull & faded, hidden with secrets and pages pressed with white roses now tearing at the seams against rough scribbles of the catastrophes of this fleeting life.

pages, of seasons, of december blues, passing by like shades of you.

i sit in my makeshift studio, trapped within the panels of my own art. patchworks of watercolor streaks over the floor, layered over one another and creating my ultimate piece, a piece called time.

december blues, passing by like shades of you.

my phone rings and your name glitches into view, like clarity in hues of melancholy moments. your voice fills my head a few seconds later.

"could you come over?"

"hmm why?"

you laugh. you're breathing heavily for some reason.

"i think i'm drunk," you laugh again, sounds blurring and muddled like trembling shadows smudged in the memories of my heart.

"where are you?"

"i- i don't kn..." your words break off as if you'd forgotten what you were going to say.

"alright, i'm coming to get you,"

"to where?"

"home. let's go home,"

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the people on the streets come and go like fleeting daydreams from the depths of my imaginations, shadows of december blues, passing by like shades of y o u. their coats and scarves seem still as they walk through the snow that fell as if it were in slow motion, as if time was freezing from winter too.

the city lights flash like the coming and going of colors, snow barely dusting the sidewalks. turning gray streets silver. dusting the top of my red umbrella with pale splatters of watercolor paint, brushing the tips of my eyelashes like forgotten gems from an era long ago.

and again, a faraway feeling washes over me. like ocean waves. as foreign as bliss and as familiar as melancholy. the feeling that this reality is just a sea of people, and i'm drowning in perfect blue.

drowning.

wind chimes tinkle from shop windows, windows coated with warm lamp lights. the stars blur bright, blending with the snow flakes. the sky, a patchwork of mystery, frozen in space, a tragedy.

my breath blooms like white roses against the cold december sky.

passing like shades of you.

i remember, of those mornings we spent in the blue cafe, reading poetry and talking like we were never strangers. of those moments when you'd rest your chin on your hand, elbows propped against the tabletop. you'd turn your head sideways and look out the glass windows, at streets of december blues passing like shades of you. you looked so much happier. i wanted to be the one to make you happier.

but oh, despite the light that glows in your warm, empty eyes sometimes, they still lead to the words sketched over your heart: i love you, but i'm leaving soon. sorry, can't save me now. i love you, but i'm leaving soon. sorry, can't save me now.

passing by, like shades of you.

i pass a corner, turning as the bridge comes into view, the bridge over sparkling water. dark water, reflecting the stars.

it's in these moments that the stars feel closer, isn't it? as if they weren't light years away as if you could fill a cup with inky water (sketched with pinpricks) and drink suns from faraway.

i look around, and that's when i see you.

you're sitting on a bench under a streetlight, looking up into the sky. i walk to you, lifting the umbrella over your head. your eyes are closed.

"auburn?"

you open your eyes. they look like ink in the dark, ink sketched with pinpricks. eyes blurred and smudged with hazy voids.

"roselin?" your voice slurs like you're underwater. as if you're drowning.

i put a hand on your shoulder.

"let's go home,"

you turn to face me, folding your arms against the top of the bench. my hand stays on your shoulder. when you look at me your eyes are blurred that you no longer look human.

no. that's not it.

you look lost.

"what is a home? i hear of so many who talk about home as a place. and i'm trying to find that place, but i get lost every time- i've never had a home but still i'm- i'm homesick,"

"sometimes home is a person," i tell you, as i looked over the water.

"really?"

"really,"

a moment of silence spans between us, before you say,

"if then..."

"hmm?"

"could you be my home?"

could i?

the snow falls silently, unlike the rain in spring. and summer. and autumn. the snow falls in a hidden way, secret way, kind way. lost way.

could i be your home?

somewhere in the distance, music pounds like the heart in my chest, blazing, electric, desperate.

no. i can't.

because, i'm lost too. i'm as scared as you. i can't be your home because if i was your home it would only give you despair.

"no," i tell you honestly, something freezing in my heart as i do.

your eyes glaze, falling from hope to emptiness, from faith to despair. what have i done?

"i see. i guess that makes it easier,"

you look at me, your gaze clearing and reflecting the snow, the stars, and the golden lights.

"you know, my heart used to be so fast whenever i looked at you. in truth, i think i've loved you for years. but for some reason, my heart isn't beating like that right now,"

i don't understand the sharp ache in my chest, as if your words had stabbed me, poison spreading; dying softly as i always have, always will.

"sorry, but i don't think i love you anymore,"

there's soft sadness in your eyes. sweet melancholy, like december blues passing and going over and over again.

i can barely hear my words as i continue to drown inside. at some point, the hand anchoring my heart had let go of mine. i thought you would stay for me. i thought you would be my home. i didn't think the concept of us would collapse this quickly. and i'm being selfish but i don't know what else to feel.

you smile, then, after my words. your face blurs, becoming part of the world. just another face twisting into darkness and darkness and darkness. just one of the others.

"i just wanted to say, i loved you back then too. and it's alright if you don't love me like that anymore. i hope you find your way home someday. i want to be your sanctuary, i want to be your anchor, but i don't want to lie to you,"

my vision glitches between drowsy sobriety and lucid hazes over and over again.

"but you know what?"

in the cold, in the quiet, in the darkness, in the distance between you and i, it's as if we were the only people in the world. and like a train colliding against time and collecting new worlds in its windows, winter worlds of december blues, passing by like shades of you, your next words continue to crash into me over and over again and for a moment once more i see the light.

in the cold silence, cold numbness, you wrapped your arms around me and embraced me by the bridge over starlight, with the embrace of a friend instead of a lover. you whisper into my ear, with the steady power and delicate kindness of winter, of falling snow.

"maybe someday, i'll be whole enough to say yes. and maybe someday, you'll feel the same way i feel for you. so i'll wait for you, to fall in love with me again,"

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