To read the previous installment: LOVE LETTER (2)

I often wonder, what life had in store for me, had I not met you. What orifices and crevices of her being would she show me. I can’t help but wonder whether you and I were ink on paper, a story penned down by destiny, or whether we were a chance meeting, just waiting to happen. 

When I walk on the beach, wet sand collecting around my toes and sticking to my skin, I think of you. Wanting to hug you, tickle you, touch you the way the sea tickles the shore. That when I see a polished seashell, the flecked surface of light browns and gold reminded me of your freckles. And the smell of salted springs reminded me of your summer perfumes. 

If there’s one thing I have learned after having met you, it is that love is unexpected and that it needs to be constantly expressed. That when I fell in love with you and didn’t see the stars in your eyes and the moon in your smile, I was disappointed. But when I heard your laugh bubbling in the air, the moment I realized I wanted to hug you even though you were awfully dirty, the happiness it gave me to see you satisfied and the hurt I felt for your disappointments I realized that I carried the sun in my heart and the stars in my hands, for loving you felt simply divine. 

I ask myself now, when my heart stops pumping blood and my skin cracks over my skeleton, will you be able to find happiness? That when I die, will our love die with me? Will I be able to wait for you within the reaches of the unknown, unable to touch the stars, a dying fire burning my heart and butterflies leaving my stomach. And when the questions arise from my mind, I snuff them out like I do your occasional cigarettes and let the smoke leave my body so I can enjoy the here and now. For why think of clouded skies and burnt out suns’, when I fly with you now, skimming a lake of stars.