Dear…

I am infatuated by you… and have been for so long that it appears I can do nothing but accept these feelings like one may learn to accept a disease; though it invades my mortality as a ceaseless curse, I can try only to tolerate the fever. But there is no hope to utilise what is neither wanted nor calculable.
Yet, love like my love for you can not be cured with pills or time like an ailment of the body. There is no remedy to numb nor withhold my feelings for you. These feelings that cling to me like stale smoke distorting my breath. Feelings which still cling and refuse, in their stubborn blaze, to wither.

You haunt my dreams. My sleep is a recurring, but ever false, sanction where we declare our inextinguishable love and I believe it all to be real until you’re once again taken from me as my eyes open to the bare and hopeless reality where you are not and we are no longer. I awake to a world where every piece of my love for you remains untouched and untold.

What is it about your snarling grin which arouses every nerve in my body like rocks smashing the serenity of a steady river?
I yearn for your brown curls and every crevice that forms each inch and pixel of your beauty.
With every wander of my mind you’re there; waiting.

And my days turn as empty as their days before without you.

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