Last night I cleaned my room for the last time before getting ready to move out the next day after planning to move for almost a year. How could I even muster the courage to leave this place, even I wonder but I knew I had to. Sooner or later I just have to because that’s the way it should be. Furthermore, the longer I stay here, the less sane I would be. It was while I was cleaning alone hoping to not find any remnants of my painfully sweet past that I cam across the box I had kept hidden in the deepest corner of my dirty, messy room.

I knew what was in it and part of me biting my neck wanted me to empty the box and fill myself full again while the other half of me was just really wanted to leave the box there; leave the box to collect dust and just be as empty as it should be. But it got the better of me and I opened it, dress my bare bed with loving words a man who once loved me wrote. Carefully I picked up one and read it word by word, letting the soft poetry caress and hold me while the rain outside continues pouring endlessly. The sculpture of an angel at the end of my room was praying and I just looked at it, how beautiful and peaceful it is. Suddenly, I felt calm.

When I loved Chanyeol, I felt like the entire world was in my hands, I could crush or cradle it and Chanyeol would love me nevertheless. He made me feel powerful, like the waves of the ocean and the lives of everything in it. Loving Chanyeol was easy, it was right and every part of me loved every part of him, it was difficult not to. He makes me feel like eternity and possibly if I try hard enough I could call the angels to do anything for me. He loved and believed me that much, how could you forget someone as beautiful as that?

Chanyeol had a flair for words, way too beautiful to be said because then it would be empty so he writes. He loves how when the pen sits snugly between his warm fingers, he could trace out the most beautiful words. But I love it more when I watch him, brows knitted and every once in a while a smile so beautiful lingers on his lips and it was magical watching him work. Some days when he feel like writing and writing and writing until his hand could no longer feel, I would sit by him and wonder how could a man love words so much.

More than anything, he wrote a number of beautiful things for me – fragments of himself, poetry, and bits of pieces of his life that reminded him of me. When I read what he writes for me, truly I knew how he loves me. More than the hand that writes his words, more than the lips that mutter his poetry, more than anything – that’s how he loves me. “My muse” he would always call me I would always answer with a smile because tell me how could you not when you are the reason for his all? Chanyeol writes beautifully and some days when he wants to tell me how much love he has for me, he hides these messages scattered around everywhere.

Each one I found I tucked quietly in my chest into a box filled with him and his thoughts for me. Chanyeol loved me in a way too mindless to just say.