What Comes After Autumn is Winter

How fast does a leaf fall from the branch?

Will a butter-golden leaf, being less basked in sunlight, drift longer than its lustful-green counterpart? Will a breeze coming from nowhere but everywhere, the best example of ubiquitous next to God, be able to slow it down? If the same wind dared blow upon your silky charcoal hair, there is no doubt in my mind that it can flutter a leaf less noble, less majestic than your braided tapestry. And, flutter not only the leaf but also my heart, but not yours. For in your eyes I saw no tears but the conviction that you have already made up your mind. Yet there is sadness, even in that leaf bound to join all the other leaves now dried and laid on the ground where you and I stand. Should not it be happy for it shall return to the soil and bring nourishment to the tree- strong enough not to make it lose leaves for some time? However, I am the same. For I know that you doing this will make me stronger to stand alone on the same ground where you and I once stood. Yet, I cannot fathom the very reality now present upon me.

Will it fall faster than a rain? I do not know. I do not care. How about against a drizzle? The only thing I cared to know about is you. Not the rain, the drizzle nor any other kind of weather. Will it fall faster than a teardrop? How about my tears shed for you?

I still come back to this place where we used to meet. If you are worried for not knowing, then I assure you it is still the same. This is still the old building in which staircases start to creak despite the gentleness of your step. I still see you here. Its walls still carry the same blue that your eyes loftily hold- a color conveyed likewise by a cloudless sky. Within the silence of its protracted halls, I can hear your voice, your laugh and your whisper. It was as if this Corinthian edifice was made solely to house the angels who descend upon your every word. If they don’t, then I guess the heavens do not exist. For where else did such a sweet voice come except from the high heavens?

But you are not here, not even your shadow. Not even the smell of the lavender perfume you use on special occasions lingers here. There is no more that person who once shed light and meaning in the emptiness of these halls. The cracks slathered on these old walls are here but not you. Those little birds still perch on the crooked window with the broken glass. They are here; where are you? All remain the same, but in the end nothing will without you. I am all alone.

The first time I saw you, honestly speaking, you really did not quite catch my eyes. To me you were just another person in our circle of friends. In actuality, we were barely more than just acquaintances, saying the occasional hello’s and hi’s every now and then. Fortunately, I say now, with some stroke of bad luck, one of our classes ended up with the university’s infamous Beelzebub, delivering students to their doom since who-knows-when. Being under the tutelage of that old cranky man had woven enough stories to make him one of the undisputed seven horrors of our university. Whether you live or die under him, you would inevitably tell a tale or two.

Being the diligent students that we were once, we, together with our friends, decided to engage in the totally new undertaking of group study. However, fortunate as the circumstances may be, those other friends became occupied in other academic work and requirements, leaving only the two of us to continue the legacy of our group’s attempt to a productive discussion amongst ourselves.

The first night this happened, you were then wearing red spectacles. It was a brighter red compared to the strawberries I indulged myself with when I was young. I do not know if it was because it was the first time I saw you wearing glasses, though not genuine for you still enviably have a perfect vision which I have already lost. Or the fact, that for the first time, I was there drinking coffee with you alone. But whatever reasons the heavens may have fated, I saw myself staring at your face. And you, catching my eyes, glasses to glasses, smiled at me in the sweetest way possible.

I smiled back at you.

From then on, we shared dinners together; studying of course remained as our rationale. Then study dinner meals added conversations over lunch. Conversations did not end over meals either. We started chatting and sending messages to each other even about the trivial things through the night. And then one night, I kissed you and you kissed me. Not minding the few people who dared to pass the chance to be witnesses of our love. I felt your breath on my lips. In that night, we shared our first kiss, the first of many to follow. I thought the world has stopped for a moment. If it did, though, then I did not care. You were there smiling sweetly at me. You were my new world.

I told you that I love you. You did not respond. The look in your eyes changed. I reckoned you did not hear it clearly enough so I said it again. Your smile had hidden in the sullenness of your lips. I have always liked the serenity found only in silence, but not this one. Breaking the eerie silence, I asked if you love me too, because that was what I felt when we kissed. You then turned to me with a question: what will you do if I have to go somewhere far? There was nothing left to say but ask a question out of perplexity. I mouthed: where? I would have added a “why” but I was cut short when you told me you do not know. So I stopped and reasoned to the best of my ability. Yet no matter how difficult I tried to come up with an answer, I could only mutter a jest that I was no fortune teller so I could not tell. You smiled a bit but such an answer was not enough for your athirst eyes. So I told you what I honestly certainly know. I love you. Be it the present or the future. I love you. And you told me you love me too.

In the five years that we were together, we shared all the days possible in each other’s company. We were peas and carrots; spoon and fork; sword and scabbard. It felt wrong if one was without the other. We were like the waves of the ocean- our love always reaching out to each other’s shores. How could I not know that something wrong was going on? I felt it in the way you looked at me. There were times even when you gazed so fervently to the view outside of this senesced edifice. It got me thinking whether you were seeing the same things my eyes have laid upon, captured perfectly by the frames of my blue eyeglasses. Or, were you looking at the future beyond- without me? Yet, one thing was clear. You shed a tear for something I would never know. I did not dare ask because I knew you would have not wanted me to do so.

“It’s nothing.”

But it was not. You seemed to grow more tired each day. For days, these drawn-out halls have missed your silence-shattering laughter. I got the feeling that you smiled every now and then because you had to assure me that everything was fine. The stories I recounted no longer got the usual endings they deserved from you. It seemed as though nothing from me sneaked into your interests. Or, was it, plainly, because nothing mattered anymore. No. You knew, in the end, everything would be lost. In an imminent night, you would choose to break my heart.

And you did, so cruel; savage; excruciating; tormenting; dreadful; deplorable; condescending. I could use all the words that I know of, but they still would not come near to describe the ache, the heartbreak to be precise. No word could ever contain such pain. I doubt even the most genius of geniuses would be able to conceive a number able to convey the intensity and magnitude of this abominable sensation. And, that was the same reason why I never spoke a word that night. I could have pelted you with questions, one after another- an endless plurality. I could have thrown words of condemnation at you. I could have assured you I would hold your hand. I could have told you I would go anywhere with you- the same answer I could have given you to begin with.

I could not.

Possibly, deep inside, I already knew even before. Perhaps, I already understood. Maybe, just maybe, I believed in what you have decided to be the best for us. Either, it was caused by my trust on you or my hopelessness.

Yet, I still come here to the place where we used to meet, same old place, same old me but without you. For what reason do I still walk these halls, if you are not here? All the while, remembering our cherished memories- to forget or not to?

Every now and then, I still find myself humming to the tune of that song you sang that one starry night. We know you cannot sing but the sweetness and gentleness of your voice are enough to make a lullaby out of any song. You sang to me your love and the moon and the stars are our witnesses. They twinkle yet you are my star. You are the diamond of my night sky.

Remember when I carried you on my back? I thought that time that I was the happiest man. That if I feel sadness after this, I can live knowing that I have spent most of my days with you in a life time of happiness. With you, I have already had more than my fair share of bliss for this life.

Remember when I called you hamster because of how you ate the almond chocolates I gave you one Valentine’s? Or, when you called me pillow because you always slept on my shoulders? Or, that you called me yours and I called you mine; I told you I love you and you told me I was the love of your life.

Withal, I am here all alone, without the love of my life- a rotten pea, a bent spoon, a broken sword. I am here in this old place where I saw you laugh and smile over shallow humor; sympathize and cry upon little things; accept and forgive the hurtful realities of the world. I am here and maybe I am still waiting. Nevertheless, do not be troubled for I will not be the “man who can’t be moved” because I will move on, just not today, just not today.

And maybe on these walls, painted with the same blue as your eyes, I will write the words I want you to hear from me. I will tell you how sorry I am using all the ways I know of and with the plenitude of space remaining, I will tell you how grateful I am to you, for you. But no, at last, I will not do that. Instead, I will write a simple “happy birthday” on this side without the cracks- forgive me for this handwriting I have ne’er been proud of. I told you I will always remember this day; well how can I forget? Without it, I will not have the wildest dream of you coming into my life. And I can write more, but I know this is enough proof that I am here, always. It is enough.

How fast does a leaf fall from the branch?

I know the answer. I know.

In that night, it was long enough for you to look at me one last time.

It was long enough for you to say goodbye.

It was long enough for you to walk out of my life.

It was fast enough to end a life with you.

Even so, like the falling leaves, I will fall over again and again. In love. With You. Just You. No other but You.