My Sakuraba

桜庭

Sakuraba means Cherry Blossom Garden. In Japanese Symbolism, Cherry Blossoms can represent the ephemeral nature of living things.

I look out through the grey musky window of this grungy apartment and I see the moon above countless buildings. It lit the room by a fraction as small as the fraction of my heart that still beats with love. For now I find myself in bed with a stranger.

I had only met him through the words he showed me through the blinding screens of a dating app. I remember ecstasy. Joy. Pleasure. Elysium. The touch of his skin. The scent of this man. Our hearts in paradise.

But that's all gone now as I gaze into the moonlit city, wondering how I got here. Wondering if it was really me who replied to his messages, his call for touch and go.

Deep inside, I thought love was here. But it feels more like chasing a cherry blossom petal the moment it flutters in the summer wind. Futile.

It wasn't always like this. I've felt love before.

But it never went the way a normal relationship would. It was always unrequited but hope lingered painfully. The way he smiled at me made me think of him more and more. The way he felt when he'd lay his head on my shoulder when he's tired from class was something else. Those days when we stayed behind after dismissal, just the two of us in a dark room, we talked of a secret world and things we'd never tell others. But I could never bear to tell him I love him.

It was like planning a ship that was sure to sink. 

For a man can only love a woman and a man who loves a man is doomed. 

Doomed to stay in his sakuraba chasing the fluttering petals only to find that these petals are worth less and less everyday you take the phone to check for the come and go, the joy in a minute, the touch and flee, the fleeting dream and the movie in your mid which plays on and on.

When will I leave... leave my sakuraba for a world not fleeting.