I want us to love. Someday, not far from now, surely, the distance will melt away and we will find ourselves together beneath a crimson sky.
I want us to live. So, someday, I will write of the shadows playing around your eyes and I will write how the stars were witness to our lips pressed so soft together. I will weave a sum of cliches on paper and it will be the most ridiculous, beautiful thing I ever put to words.
I will write about us. About stars that do not cross.
At sixteen, I wrote about how I want to love.
I want to love you in the way I have learnt from the women I take after, I want to clasp you shut but let you stay right here,and every now and then, I want to shake the dust off your covers and love you again. I want to break the Love Laws for you, I want to love you with a fury like a storm on April evenings, I want to caress you with soft, nebulous gazes like the clouded skies of August. my lips against your skin mellow like clear autumn skies,I want to send shivers down your spine like cold lonely nights. I want to awaken you like the touch of spring and love you again.
I want to love you like this. Under reckless clouds gathering over our heads. Through darkening evenings bleeding into disquiet. Through the ugly, through the harsh.
And at the end of it all, when the sun taints the eastern sky with its softest awakening glow, I will love you, “like thanking god that we live”…at the end of it all, I will just write about you.