Of Love and Other Tragedies

1 | the letter

Dear My Love,

As I sit up in bed writing this, I think of our relationship as a whole and wonder what it would be like if we were together as one.

But, unfortunately, life has gotten between us, forcing you to move across the country to be with family. No matter, though, for you will always be with me in my heart.

Thinking of you, I wonder about the perfect date between you and I, where it will take place and such.

I imagine the most beautiful of meadows, the earth beneath our feet covered with gorgeous flowers. The world around us is in a gentle silence, letting us have our time together before reality comes flying back to our hearts.

A large picnic basket remains between us, the brown color of it reflecting our skin. You, with a dazzling smile, opens it, somehow containing your excited laughter and corny jokes. Taking out bottles of 'bubbly', as you would say, you place it on the ground near our feet, making room for other provisions.

When everything would be out of the basket, we would eat a little here and there, but mostly just talk. Talk, talk, talk all throughout our time together, talk about the past, the present, the future, for they are in our minds, always.

With our past, it begins with our meeting, the moment we met. It was in the first grade, no, it was in Kindergarten that we had met, being just friends then.

But then, time helped us to grow, and it was just me and you, our bond inseparable, that is, until death. The passing of your father, around the seventh grade, had hurt you much, but time and love gave you back to me, along with guidance to keep you from straying too far.

And now, with just me and you, I find myself in a pickle, for how will I ever confess my feelings? How can I, truly?

Well, after most of everything has been eaten, I would tug you forward and kiss you myself, my lips meeting yours in the most wonderful touch of fireworks.

But that's not very realistic, now, is it?

*sigh* I probably won't be confessing myself to you anytime soon, but then again, I already have, right? I mean, just sending you this letter would be enough to tell you how I feel.

But what do I love about you?

Most of it is just you, every single inch. I love your deep brown eyes, myself just wanting to swim in them, they seem so warm and fuzzy. I love your large yet soft hands, the quality of them rough with work, but gentle with love, as I have always wondered what you have thought of me.

But enough of that, with a heavy heart, I release my thoughts to you now. So enjoy...

Love,

Me