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dear you,
as much as i hate to say this, sometimes, love begins the moment it ends.
i would like to describe us as galaxies. pandemoniums. whirlwinds of emotions. this, i splatter, because your eyes were more than just a spectrum of colours. as if there was a supernova that oozed through your veins. oh, god, i would be lying if i say i didn't want to swim in them.
every single aspect about you kept drawing me in; those unnoticeable freckles that contrasted against your honey skin, the slight beard under your chin and your delicate nose tip. i couldn't quite combust as per why i kept feeling such a devoid emotion. this tightening, yet undeniably magnetising piece of thought inside my chest. all i knew was that i never wished to stop.
because you and i weren't what others see on stories. i wasn't the perfect goody two shoes, and i'm sure you weren't my bad influence. but, still, i didn't know what we were. hell, i didn't even know who you were. maybe i still don't, but that shouldn't be a problem for now. those were nothing but labels, now, weren't they?
and the more i think about it, there more i believe that mass isn't always proportional to volume. because what we had was much more complex than the newton's law. as i imagine my hips swaying along with yours . . . we would smile, move, and talk . . . i commenced to comprehend at at some points of our lives, our hearts were dancing between the land and the sea, just like the apple falling from its tree, and that was okay.
because at the end of the day, present tense, you will always be my living impromptu; something that is done without being planned or rehearsed. i believe that every moment with you was an adventure, an adventure that i will forever treasure until the grim reapers come and greet me. we might never be together to begin with, but i know for sure that you and i were connected by thousands of invisible silver linings, extemporaneous hopeful sides of a situation that might seem gloomy on the surface.
