Counting Airplanes

With eyes impassive and an expression so unreadable, I stare at the enigmatic soul sitting by my side in a hanging swing beneath the moon and the stars. The thumping of my heart is very much deafening that I swear he could hear it from inches away.  I move a little to the right and feel his hand brush against mine. Even in the cold January wind, this mere touch generates an electrifying rush all over my body. The sensation feels familiar, so familiar that I cannot be inaccurate about it; it is that same exact feeling I had thirteen months ago.

I remember gushing over his attractive eyes and contagious smile for the first time. I like talking to him in the wee hours of the morning. I avoided missing him in every possible way, but I raised the white flag eventually. 

It was bizarre the way he would cross my mind a billion times a day. In time, he made me fall faster than a meteorite crashing down on earth. He made me feel superhuman - I could do anything I wanted to do just as long as his hand was holding mine. 

But I got disappointed in the end. He gave me false hopes and I ended up with nothing. I got hurt but I was thankful. He taught me to put up walls around me so I could discern reality from expectations. I became a stronger, wiser and rational person. 

Tonight, he might be coming back in my life for unknown reasons, but I am sure of one thing. This time, I am using my head to save my heart from wounds and bruises. Who knows, maybe a second chance is coming for us. Until then, I am staying here, counting airplanes with him.