things inside my pocket

even the thought of clearing my throat was not an option. it was already too late when i have realized that my own courage already abandoned me inside that cold ruin. paralyzed and confused.

the only things left were two familiar objects i always kept inside my pocket and another one, which i always deny bringing.

it was not the first time i have been with this ghost. but regardless of how much i shield myself against it, my body still reacts indifferently. it drops down 'til i chill. my heart turns cold like a snail, but my face burns as if its melting all the coming intuitions.

then i opened my eyes wide and bravely watched as the shadows danced and swept time and everything away. it is just fascinating how it weaved empty memories. honestly, i never really thought that i would still live up to that day to witness and be mesmerized by it. something not all are privileged to see, for they chose not to see it.

though the thoughts of freezing vodka mingling on the tip of tongues was tempting, something inside my pocket just pulled me back. the same moment when i have realized that a cold sheet of pure impulsiveness almost devoured me. thus, with a weak but definite voice, i pulled myself together and marched away. dressing myself with a distinct pallet of two entirely different colors of victory and loneliness.

all i could hear then was the last drops of a drying rain pour, and a deafening silence behind the door in front of me.

for a moment, i felt scared of what i was to embrace. but the urge of not looking back was stronger than the shackles that kept and defined me for the longest time.

so this time, i promised myself that there will no longer be any room for regrets.