Dating : Love Is Like Being Held Up At A Gun Point

My friend Maxine and I were hanging out

It was a somber 3 am in the streets

I wasn’t all too familiar with

We looked for a Ministop, stayed inside while waiting for our Grab to arrive

She asked me, “Why do we have to wait here in Ministop?”

I said. “I don’t know? I don’t like strangers and I’m afraid we might get held up at gunpoint.”

She groans and says “How much longer?”

I told her, “It says here 5 more minutes, but I was willing to wait forever”

She sighs and says. “Forever? Over something like that? A Grab?”

“Yea. It’s one of those things where you no longer remember how life was before they came into your life, and now if they get taken away you have to endure the alienation, the abandonment and feeling alone.”

She rolls her eyes, “We’re still talking about the Grab, right?”

Before I could say anything, my phone notifies that the driver has arrived

We get into the car to what seemed like a quiet ride.

Maxine breaks the monotony and asks the driver to turn up the AC

The driver did

And I felt so cold, I was in the presence of other people but I felt alone

Just like that one time where I cancelled a date with him because hanging out with my friends sounded better

He was the warmest thing around on the coldest days but I somehow managed to push him away.

I got dropped off in EDSA and decided it’d be best if I walked home instead of taking the trike.

I pondered as to why we broke up,

Did I lack something? Was I intolerable? Was I unlovable?

Last December it was so cold, and instead of letting me go home at 12 midnight, you asked me to stay the night instead and we shared beds and made out.

And in the morning we covered the pillows with our mixed scents and that meant really well

But now I’m alone, scared and terrified of getting held up at gunpoint.

When we first met, I gave you the gun and the bullet

When we fought for the first time, I gave you the time and reason to load the bullet in the gun

When you were deciding if we should break it off with me and I begged, “I can fix this please give a chance, tell me what to do” You placed your finger on the trigger and held me up at gunpoint

When you finally decided to break it off, you finally pulled the trigger

Our love is dead and so am I

You’ve already shot me.

I can longer remember what was going on through my head the moment you shot me in our favorite café where we first kissed.

But I can vaguely remember how it felt:

Crimsons wounds bleed dark red,

My heart pounding fast,

Tears running down my cheek,

Seeing you cry making me cry harder,

My voice cracking at every word,

My cheeks red, but not the same shade of red when I blush, every time you held my hand,

Traffic lights turning red, telling me to stop, this is the end.

I was afraid of getting held up at gunpoint but little did I know that the person I loved was the felon.