i'm sorry.

i don't know how

to write a love letter,

one filled with pink metaphors

and purple prose

and rose colored hearts drawn in

tattoo ink.

i don't know how to

express

the way you make my chest feel

an ache like i've never felt

but a kind ache, a good ache

the kind of ache that

makes you want to snuggle under the covers

and watch the ceiling

shift and change

with the hallucinations of nighttime.

i'm sorry.

i don't know how to write

a love letter.

i'm not even sure

that i know how to love.

but for you,

i'm willing to try.

i'm willing to try anything

if it will make you happy.

so i'm sorry.

i might not be able to give you

a tv romance

with sex and drama and passion.

but i can smile at you

when you need a friend

and hug you

when you need one.

so maybe i can't write you a love letter.

but actions speak louder than words.

Maybe my heart isn’t the home you are looking for. Just maybe I am a fixer-upper that called to you to show affection and compassion. Perhaps that is what my heart is for you. You helped gut out the things I no longer needed that hurt me and polished the things that I kept hidden under the floorboards of my soul. Your gentle hands caressed over my foundation, memorizing the veins along with the concrete of my walls. You were so gentle with me; how can I not fall in love with you?

Like all fixer-uppers that transform into a beautiful house, this isn’t meant for you for the long term. You came into my life when the autumn moon was so yellow, and the trees began to change to rustic colors. You were sent to me to heal me as I was meant to heal you, too. We had a lot of things to learn about each other and, most notably, about ourselves. I am glad we were on this journey together, even if it was for a short time. My bones will never be brittle anymore as you fed me your love and affection, and your soul will always know what unconditional love feels like from a stranger.

These are the things we will never forget.

A year has passed, and the winter sun drifts off to sleep as the dusk softly colors the evening sky. My heart whispers of a daydream, and my soul is drunk off you.

I will never be the same, and I am more than okay with that.

Yours in a different lifetime,

M.

p.s. I'll meet you on crystal white sands and sapphire blue waters under two collided sunsets.

I love you like it is my job to do so, proudly wearing the badge that says Employee Of The Year. At each year's end, I will beg for another contract, refusing to project my energy elsewhere.

Even though I am as unknown to you as last season's dead leaves, my love is stronger than the mighty elm that once held them. I am the little bird at the top of the bare branch you have not seen, cheering for you as you soar to your own heights without me.

Some may call what I am doing wrong. I think not. I truly mean no harm. What is done in the name of love can only be right. Agreed? Perhaps our buildings were built with a future intent. Brick by brick a lovestruck mason could have surmised. "What if a man were to gaze out from this very window and look down. What would he see?" Yes. It all makes sense. He built this window where I sit for me; where I watch you read by the light shining in from the sun through your window illuminating each of your features; your silky brown hair, your golden skin, the slope of your nose casting just the right amount of shadow over your lips, all created by the hand of a generous God.

I can only hope someday you will look up directly at me and know, better yet we will meet down in the courtyard. Our eyes will lock and you will understand that I am the one you have been waiting for. I am the one that has loved you long before you were born and I will love you until my last dying breath and beyond. Even if my love should remain anonymous, if my love for you is not seen, how does that mean it does not exist? True love cannot hide from itself. And if it is blind, then let me be guilty.

Are you reading love poems today? Search for me in the words. Find me there if nowhere else, my love. In this lifetime or the next, I am all yours.

What is love?

Is it safety?

Chemistry?

A burning need to touch,

taste,

crawl

inside

and bask in the glow of hormones?

Remembering your favorite food?

Someone to care for you when you’re feeling ill?

Give you the last cupcake?

Protect you from a cruel world?

Tuck you in and hold you close?

Caress the small of your back and hold your hand in the dark as you slip on the icy walkway? If you go down, you go down together.

Is that love?

Does it last,

or evolve,

into something less frantic and more comfortable?

A favorite pair of Jeans molded to your curves,

stretched just enough in all the right places.

Is it a cosmic connection?

Astral projection...

of souls?

Do we delude ourselves into thinking we’ve found it because it’s a feeling wholly unidentifiable,

myth or holy grail?

Who among us can be certain?

Show yourself.

Magic happens with you babe.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s being wrapped up in your arms, living out our passions. Or when you became my first kiss, and then my second, and third.. well now I’ve lost count to be honest. Maybe it’s just simply being happy listening to you sing as you play your guitar for me. Maybe it’s because I feel more comfortable with you than I have with anyone else. Or maybe it’s that feeling of calm when we’re laying together, my head on your chest.

But when I’m with you, nothing else seems to matter, tomorrow doesn’t exist, and whatever we want we can have.

But then, morning comes, and we wake up in our separate lives, and it feels like we’re worlds apart.

This could never actually work. You and me. We are just two completely different paths, while broken in similar ways, we were never actually supposed to cross over each other. But somehow we did.

And for that brief moment, it was perfect. We were happy. And in that moment, we both considered maybe this is possible.

But I got scared. And so I stepped back. That night, my heart cried out so loud; it felt like I had crushed my soul. Because that’s what losing you felt like. And I know it hurt you just as much. I could see it in your eyes, and in the way you tried to convince me that we could overcome anything, if I would just give it one more chance.

You told me that night, for the first time, that you loved me.

And while I didn’t say it then, I can see now that I loved you too.

And if I’m being honest, I still do.

And while we’re being honest, no matter how much love can overcome, we both realized that we could not be.

Our needs for a future didn’t match up, and in the end, could be destructive if not dealt with now. And as much as it hurt to let you go, I can’t keep you knowing that I can’t give you everything you need in life. That would just be selfish of me.

Someone once said, “sometimes, when you love something, the best thing you can do is just let it go.”

And that’s what I’m doing. I’m letting you go, so that you can find someone else, someone who can give you what I can’t. And because I care about you and love you, I want you to have all the love and happiness in life that you deserve. Which is more than I can give.

And while we both enjoy those nights together, those magical nights. They’re just a facade of something that can’t be. And while we’ll always have apart of each other’s heart, we have to let each other go.

Anything less would just be selfish love.

I never liked the feeling of another person's hands until I felt yours. Now, I daydream about your fingers tracing the edges of my face. The feeling of your hands running through my hair.

I have always liked being alone, spending my time in the peaceful, quiet of my own company. But these days, I'd rather spend my free time listening to you talk and laugh for hours about stupid things.

I hate texting and calling and snapchatting and most forms of communication. Yet, I find myself doing all of those things when your name appears on my screen.

I like routine, organization, and orderly schedules. You never plan a thing in your life. You wreck my plans constantly. And yet, it thrills me to see you do it.

I have spent years alone, satisfied with my life the way it is. I'm a busy person. I have friends and family and commitments. I barely have time for everything else in my life, but when you ask to see me, I find a way. I clear the schedule for you.

My life has been so centered around my goals that I forgot what it was like to want someone else to be apart of it. I forgot how to feel like this.

And now, I am hopelessly enthralled by you. I cannot for the life of me figure out how it happened. But, I'm yours.

Dearest Squished French Fry,

If you see the dried spots on this page know it is not grease. It is my tears.

I have loved you since we met. I was but a child when we became friends. I walked in, saw you lying on the bustling freshly mopped floor. Someone had thrown you away or you had fallen from their hand... to this day, I know not. But when I saw you there, your golden love drew me in.

Ever since that fateful day I was faithful to you! I was never late to our three-a-day dates. I watched you swim in the bright pungent ketchup; occasionally you dove into my milkshake. We had so much fun together. I thought you completed me.

But things changed. I struggled to fit through the door of the nostalgic spot we met. You no longer satiated my graving, I needed more! I jumped ship, and pursued your friend- the abundant cheeseburger with her hearty kindness and fluffy buns. But nothing helped. Nothing could fill the void left by your presence. You will always be the love of my life, but I must let you go. I have joined a gym, I’ve joined a support group. I can’t believe I’m saying this but... I met someone there. Her name is Salad. She is struggling from rejection issues and bitterness, but she’s helped me through a lot so far. She’s advised I put a restraining order on you. You cared nothing for me but to make my time, money and health waste away. Thus, my love, I write my farewell.

Your heartbroken lover,

A loyal McDonald’s customer

By Adventurer7

3-1-21

Distance is a funny thing when I can imagine you peering over my shoulder as I write, when I can hear your voice through the speaker of my phone, and see your visage on the screen, but I can't hold your hand. I can't hide behind the front door waiting for you to walk in so I can jump out and scare you and you'll laugh instead of scream but it would be okay because I would be with you.

I love you.

I miss you.

I keep imagining the scenario where I buy a plane ticket and fly home to surprise you. You would drop your bags in shock and you would stare in disbelief and I would cry because I would be with you. But every time I look at plane tickets on my phone, I hear your voice whisper in my ear that our time will come and money is tight and not to.

I love you.

I miss you.

The letters on this page are mere symbols of my affection, each word a hug that I would rather give, each dot and dash a moment I would rather spend with you. But I write so that you can have something of me there, a reminder of me, and in hopes that you write back so that I can be reminded too.

I love you.

I miss you.

01/04/40 - if the bomb smoke ever stilled, and the sky peered through, it would be reminiscent of you.

03/09/40 - i’m convinced we’re only all cobbled together ash and melancholic dreams, no? come back. come back, and spend this carnival of life with me.

03/21/40 - if my eyes are anything to go off of, the light through the stained glass always seemed to favour you. i miss you dearly.

04/01/40 - i think that’s all she wanted. death just wanted to talk to you. why aren’t you back yet?

04/01/40 - i miss you. i miss you. the rest of my life pales when i realize i’m not allowed to spend it with you. it’s going to faint from blood loss.

04/02/40 - i’m so bitter i can’t win, even if this was always a losing battle.

05/12/40 - such a tainted life, filled with people who serve to remind me of you. then again, death is only another place for me to fall in love with you.