Sing me that song.

"I'll be your crying shoulder,

I'll be love's suicide.

I'll be better when I'm older,

I'll be the greatest fan of your life."

She looked into his eyes as he sang the words that she wanted to hear him say. She smiled at his attempt at carrying a tune. He was never a good singer and it made her happy that he's so willing to humiliate himself just to satisfy her wishes.

Words ran through her mind. She wanted to tell him so many things but she didn't know where to start. She just kept on listening to his failed attempt at singing to her. Oh how she loved this tone deaf little fool.

The words took form in her mind but her lips refused to move. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him right now, with him in front of her. She wanted him to know that he holds her heart in his hands. She wanted him to know how he makes her wish for eternity to be true. She wanted him to know that he makes her want to believe in happy endings. She wanted him to know that he, for once in her life, wanted something so selfishly. She wanted him.

The song ended and he smiled, a little embarassed. She laughed at him and he frowned.

"I don't know why you like making me sing. My voice sucks." He said.

"I know it does. But it makes me happy that you're willing to embarass yourself just for me." she answered smiling.

She kept on staring. The words slowly dissolving, her courage disappearing. She couldn't do it. She couldn't risk it. She would not allow herself to be vulnerable. And yet as she stared at his lips, wishing to kiss them once more, the words echoed in her head,

"I love you.."

This entry was posted by Kath Macapagal, on Wednesday, August 5, 2009. You can leave your response.