I want to be able to smell you forever. I want to have you against my skin every night and every morning. I want to have meaningless quarrels with you, only to make up immediately after and breathe in each other again and again, until we are saturated of each other.
I want to feel every bit of you pushing up against me and touching me, and feeling me, and falling in love with me.
I want all the romance, all the rows, all the silly little things and inside jokes lovers create. I want our own space. I want to find love in you. I know you don’t feel the same way, but this is a confession.
I want to wake up every morning and see you next to me.
And when we are together, I wish time would stand still and we were together for longer. I wish time would stop and we could still move, we could still breathe and be the way we are.
I miss you so intensely when we are far apart. Every time we leave, I feel the urge to ask you, “when can I see you again?”
Even though I already know it will be soon.
Say whatever you want. But I want this. I want you.
For now, you are mine again. Even though I know it won't last.
But despite that, I want you to know that I love you more than anyone else in this world. That I always have. And that I will probably never love anyone the same way I love you.
You once asked me, with a sad smile on your face, if I had ever been truly in love. I said I had.
You never asked me who it was, or when that was, or what had happened. I think that deep down, you always knew. Deep down, you still know.
Still trying to organize myself with Something Missing, so I decided to keep you entertained with a short and quite melodramatic love letter that will never be answered.
How do I know, I hear the masses chant. Well. I'm the author.
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