For the first time, I ran out of words to say. I don’t know how to assemble the scattered thoughts I have in my mind. I have certainly lost contact with words that would somehow persuade you that I love you, and that I am sure of it, no matter how indecisive I am about most things in my life.
This is not poetry or a mere exaggerated piece that I have managed to write through the hours that passed. This is as true as can be. This is a story. A letter to you. A collection of complicated maybe’s about how the turn of events in our lives have inked their way into my pounding chest which, only months ago, I have been dying to revive.
You are a choice. Not a choice out of the many options. Not a choice because you are the only available option. A choice. A heartbeat. A decision my heart and mind agreed upon for the first time.
I need you to listen. Closely. Not only with the words you hear by reading on your mind. I need you to listen with all that you are so that you may be able to feel the love written in here. To understand the sound of worry in every space there is in this letter. To taste the difference between I love you and I love you too.
I love you in a way that is extremely unbelievable. And odd. I love you for reasons that don’t exist. I love you for time limits that have not been discovered. I love you. No addition nor subtraction. I love you.
The future holds so many secrets. and whether fifteen years from now, you’re holding my hand and I’m holding yours, or your lips are locked with another’s, you are still my choice. The one I love. The one who changed my heart and who made me feel like the sun’s rays were running through my bloodstream.
You will always be my choice.
For these, and for all the thoughts I have failed to include and that are yet to be perceived, I love you.
reverie: hers, erstwhile 