Dearly beloved, part 11: In agony with an aphrodisiac.

Dearly beloved” is a series of love letters sent and received over a period of one hundred years.

9/3/2027

Dearly Beloved,

I never knew it takes only 7 hours to measure the depth of the universe a person carries within himself. Nor I knew it would take 7 long hours to realize that the person who is light years away from what I call my type, would turn out to be the one I was searching for.
Cliché? There, I said it.

This city never fails to mesmerize me at every breaking dawn but not every day you turn into an adrenaline junkie, do you?

I miss reading you with my eyes, hiding a lot behind my smile, walking along the streets till our legs hurt, craving you with every fiber of my being. But I don’t have the courage to solve a mystery that doesn’t want to be solved. It is too liberating, too beautiful that way. And I consider it a heinous crime to unravel it. If love is dead for you, so be it.

I have been in a bubble since that day, constantly losing my sanity and regaining it, completely acting as a stubborn ass person like my star sign that I wouldn’t speak my heart out, but here I am.

Well, honey, although you made your stance pretty clear, didn’t you break my heart? I wonder.

So just like the above, (last night I thought to myself) I will write one thousand love letters to you during these one thousand sleepless nights. I would crumple half of them and ignite with the fire inside my heart. Then I would make paper boats with the rest and cry another thousand rivers just to sail them away. Above all, I would make sure they never reach you, ever.


Thus I will avenge my chivalry. I will avenge my love.
Yours
I usually use anagrams for my name.
Then again, you are too smart to find out.
What if this one sails through your heart! Lol.

Photo by Designecologist on Pexels.com

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