Letter from Your One True Love Or Not
My dearest dear, you are nothing special to me. I have traversed these lands not at all and spent countless years just this second awaiting you, my love. The one who I will spend the rest of my life with unless I don't. You are the unobtainable freebie. That most golden of rewards easily given. The thought of you litters the parking lot of my mind, and you should really clean it up.
Even though we have spent but a few moments together these past few years I feel as if we have known each other for just that exact length of time. So indelibly are you reversibly burned into my heart. So smoldering are the scattered ashes of our love. If I had to choose but one person to spend the rest of my life with I would not most certainly perhaps choose you. And that would be incorrectly not wrong. Very much so.
When we first met it was not our first meeting, but our last, and the last time we would meet for the first time. I remember the day like it was something completely made up. You were there. I was there. We were elsewhere. And though we seemed an unlikely pair, we very much were. And I love you.
I do not know who stole the first kiss of the evening, except to say it was me. And I do not know where exactly we were unless I remember. But I know this with much uncertainty: I was never planning to go down on one knee so elaborately and so pre-medidatively. That is not a word but it is though it's not. It is not destiny that we are meant to be together, and if you don't think so then that's cool. Yes, very hot.
The hours between our last meeting just a moment ago grow longer. I must finish this letter quickly, for I haven't a lot to do, and must start my next letter to you post-haste and never again.
Be good, my terrible love. Do not pine for me, for I am right here and you are eating all of the popcorn. I will return soon after being gone forever. And once I return we shall let the world know quite unknowingly and with little grandeur that we have been united in unbreakable, flimsy love of a sort.
And the world will tremble in awe without tremble or awe. Our union of hearts will be strong. Wind-torn. Unquestioned. And confusing.
Sincerely,
I Didn't Mean It I Did
Even though we have spent but a few moments together these past few years I feel as if we have known each other for just that exact length of time. So indelibly are you reversibly burned into my heart. So smoldering are the scattered ashes of our love. If I had to choose but one person to spend the rest of my life with I would not most certainly perhaps choose you. And that would be incorrectly not wrong. Very much so.
When we first met it was not our first meeting, but our last, and the last time we would meet for the first time. I remember the day like it was something completely made up. You were there. I was there. We were elsewhere. And though we seemed an unlikely pair, we very much were. And I love you.
I do not know who stole the first kiss of the evening, except to say it was me. And I do not know where exactly we were unless I remember. But I know this with much uncertainty: I was never planning to go down on one knee so elaborately and so pre-medidatively. That is not a word but it is though it's not. It is not destiny that we are meant to be together, and if you don't think so then that's cool. Yes, very hot.
The hours between our last meeting just a moment ago grow longer. I must finish this letter quickly, for I haven't a lot to do, and must start my next letter to you post-haste and never again.
Be good, my terrible love. Do not pine for me, for I am right here and you are eating all of the popcorn. I will return soon after being gone forever. And once I return we shall let the world know quite unknowingly and with little grandeur that we have been united in unbreakable, flimsy love of a sort.
And the world will tremble in awe without tremble or awe. Our union of hearts will be strong. Wind-torn. Unquestioned. And confusing.
Sincerely,
I Didn't Mean It I Did
posted by greenland at 12:04 AM
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