An Alternate Ending

"Your song, it's...beautiful", she said.

"Uhm, thanks ? " "Good that you liked it.

We were stumbled in silence. Both of us were clueless about how to respond one another.

"What about the lyrics? Why didn't you write it down ?"

I paused for a while, recalling the fact behind the song's creation. I recalled all my memories, and I found nothing useful.

"I am not good at romanticizing things. I was afraid that It would sound cheesy or too logical to feel", she nodded. As we gazed upon each other's eye, the clock's ticking on a faster.

"So why did you write them down, I mean, what purpose did it serve?", she asked. Her eye was glittering, those eyes, the thing that always put me under the extreme fear: I was afraid that she'll gaze upon my soul.

"It was a part of my feelings. I was in a music group back then, and we had fun. Was an additional before they asked me to be their lead guitar. I gave the guys this song, but none were willing to give any thought about the lyric. So it stayed dormant. I will give it to someone I cared for".

"Much appreciated that you care", she replied. Her smile was beautiful, cutest one I've seen. If she's my lover I'll kiss her in the cheek right now. But unfortunately, we're not even there yet.

"I do care about people. Even if I said the otherwise. I got a silent treatment from my mother, my source of affection. So, I didn't receive any caress, comfort etc. She asked me to think or rethink all the bad things I've been through logically", I replied. She looks confused, her brow's going up and down, as if she's measuring my self worth.

"Is that the reason why you're having so much trouble expressing your feelings? Like your song ?"

"Maybe. I doubt that I'll ever produce any good stuff", I said. 

"It reminded me of someplace faraway, you know. Your song", she smiled. 

"What it's like ?", I asked.

"it was a small coffee shop. Small, simple, yet beautiful place", she explained.

"you think so?"

"I really do. In fact, I smiled. See?", she shows her grin, kinda creepy.

"ugh, stop that. I liked it before, now..not so much", I said.

We shared our poem, writings, to give insight about what they should've been , and what they was about. I doubt that she will ever read this imaginary dialog that I wrote on this blog. But for now, I have to supress all those impulse.