I was in love with you. I still am.
I wish I could wrap my heart up in a beautiful little box, with ribbons and paper. That I could give it to you, playfully let you know it’s delicate, and watch as you tenderly remove all the unnecessary adornments.
I’ve dreamt that I would see your face light up with the realization of my love, the same way I’ve looked at you; when you’ve danced, while you got lost in something you were doing.
You warned me not to love you, and you told me you’d never love you. And still, I’m not angry.
I miss you, and that I’ll never see your serenely sleeping face again, or rest my head upon your chest and know that my world was better when the two of us were together.
I can be happy now, but a piece of me is empty by missing you. Miss you and the way your lips were shaped while you smiled, your two pointy teeth that were adorable, the way your laugh sounded surprised and loud but inviting, the way your body wasn’t perfect to you but felt perfect to me.
I love you so sincerely, and so innocently.
Even though we won’t be together, I hope that knowing there is at least one person who will always love you can comfort you in your dark times.
I hope that one day, still, you’ll love me.
That I’ll get handed something of ribbons and paper, and be reminded that it’s fragile…