Fourteen Point Two

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You,

It is late, the lights are dim, the music’s slow and you’re on my mind. I shan’t be particularly speculative regarding this inclination to rejoice and bask in the glory of amorous gestures. ‘Tis a pity that the truth belies. Qualifying feelings to a finite set of demonstrative and verbal actions is to desecrate those feelings.

Although, the wondrous thing is that you can celebrate what you feel regardless spatio-temporal restrictions. Thus, let us not be a subject to bleak realism and for the sake of it, I shall join the parade of fools who have been struck like thunder by an arrow of a fictitious little Greek fellow known as the cupid and indulge in the guilty pleasure of a wordsmiths’ obsession with their beloved.

Verily, here and now, this particular part of me breathes your existence like a smoke-ridden intoxication. You need to know this, you truly do, that with all your human flaws and imperfections, to me you could not be more perfect. You are unique, one in seven billion, with all your abilities so divine and thoughts so refined. You are beautiful, beyond the determined stereotypical statuses set by this judgmental and detrimental world. Your soul is the ocean and your mind is the sky; fearfully fascinating; a fantastic fantasy.

My love, never forget that in this moment, here and now there is a headstrong, ambitious, pollyannish, unromantic, obstinate and compulsive, halfwit young lady who shall cherish your presence in her life and shall always be thankful for what you share with her.

Life makes us take that bitter sip of poison and gulp down the fact that time, people and feelings are all subjected to change. To be or not to be, that is the question. At some point, we may no longer be who we are today, but today we are us and tomorrow can change that tomorrow, not today.

I shall raise my glass to make a toast to this, now and us.

With eternal love,

Me.

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