Under the Blue Sky of Grand Central Station

Grand Central Station

we are fiction.
a bond formed from imagined convictions,
based on countless, unedited predictions to form
a desirable depiction of a girl and a boy.

The sky had opened up over Manhattan, sheets of pounding raindrops scattering over the gridlocked streets and monumental skyscrapers. The beautifully blue ceiling of Grand Central was the only refuge, a sign of a peaceful sky that seemed so distantly far away. I was huddled in one of the marble corridors clutching a too big cup of Starbucks coffee when you emerged through the gold double doors, another wet wayfarer in the crowd. But, for me, my eyes were caught by your stare and I immediately felt a pull that I still to this day cannot explain.

We traipsed through the city like vagabonds, ducking into the shops of St. Mark’s Place in a futile attempt to stay dry. I watched you linger along the spines in the bookstore for hours, curiously looking over title after title, never letting your eyes shift toward me in fear of giving away a secret. I perched on a stool in the corner with a fictitious tale, pretending to read, pretending to prove that you weren’t the only object in that shop that could capture my attention. We ended that day with a train ride, with a dissection of good playlists and an admittance of the things we felt we were missing out on. A kiss passed between us in dim lighting and the original pull that ran through my nervous system turned into a shower of sparks.

we ran on the beat of heart palpitations,
an open ended invitation for a seemingly long
narration that never arrives, it never has time.
we abandoned the art of conversation.

Months passed with plenty of rampant conversations and taunting advances, and somehow, in the midst of being cautious, I let my emotions slip through my tightly held grasp and unlock the cage around my heart, hoping that you would notice the open door and dive into the spaces that, for so long, had been confined. heart

But it didn’t quite turn out that way. We became stuck in a standstill position, a boat in the midst of calm tides without any oars, with no compass to point toward the direction of sacred land. We wrote each other into lines of poetry and reminisced in an effort of escaping from ourselves, but doors had closed and minds had changed and I was left grappling with the overpowering thoughts of loneliness once again.

I reached out in attempts to bridge the miles of countless state lines, but the telephone wires would always become tangled with emotions and selfishness, ignorance and quickly deflated elation. I imagined that first meeting over and over, holding on to it like it could go and leave me forever, but I knew that it was ingrained in my memory for always. There was a trigger you had stumbled upon inside the recesses of my ribcage that connects us in a permanent way, but I didn’t know at that first meeting that you only had the word ‘temporary’ stamped onto your bones. heart

and she’s left to wonder if the spell she’s under
is a piece of his flawed facade, a fraud
she feels compelled to applaud.

We fell apart to the rhythm of John Mayer lyrics and the whispers of doubt echoing in our eardrums. We were left as a series of unanswered question marks, of stretching miles on a map, of syllables tucked throughout the digital realm. We were swimming in holds that couldn’t be broken without a firm promise of commitment and neither of us was bold enough to take that leap.

Some days I stumble into thoughts of you and am left wishing for sunflowers on my windowsill and walks through Central Park, because they remind me endlessly of you. Some days I wish we could’ve been like the bright blue sky of Grand Central, but that ceiling was always just a sign of a peacefulness that was so distantly far away. heart

• • • • •

Many times, we set ourselves up for heartbreak. We put all of our energies into one vessel and send it out to sea, hoping that it can survive the crashing waves thrown at it from all sides, but mostly we just capsize. We cling to someone so tightly with hope that we drown in the idea of smooth sailing. But love, in all forms, is messy and unpredictable, sometimes here and then gone tomorrow. And many times, we are left to build our broken mosaic hearts back up into the cages they were harbored in before.


4 thoughts on “Under the Blue Sky of Grand Central Station

  1. This is beautiful. And if it’s based on recent, personal events, I am sorry. Heartbreak is always difficult to endure, yet so crucial to growth and learning. I remember my first heartbreak like it was yesterday and my attempts to put all my energy into the vessel of our relationship. As I’ve grown, I see now the importance of being with someone who reciprocates my efforts.



    1. Thank you, Akirah. Heartbreak is always difficult to go through; whether it happened yesterday or years ago, it can always come back and hit you from time to time. But it’s important as it makes you stronger, like you said. XO

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