Love Letter

Love Letter - student project

The sunlight sprinkled in through the window, flickering sparkling lights off of the dust motes that surround us. You lay there. Soft snores escaping your mouth. I try to memorize the landscape that is your face. The peaks and divots that compose your cheeks and chin. The smooth runway of your nose. The brunette hair that sweeps your face. Everything about you shimmers. I don’t want to forget a single inch.


“What?” you blink at me as you yawn and stretch. A lazy smile traces your lips and a sinkhole appears in your cheek. My dimple. The one you only show me, right?


“Mm” I hum shaking my head against the pillow. My fingertips feather across your face as I try to trace the feeling with my eyes.


A small chuckle, “What’s with you this morning?”


“I just don’t want to forget,” I explain. Your skin is like velvet.


“Forget what? Me?” You ask with an almost incredulous look. You over-exaggerate your emotion, and I feel the pull in my cheeks as I smile.


How can you be so beautiful? How can you pull so hard at my heartstrings? I have never felt so drawn to another as I do you. What spell have you casted?


The sunlight wavers between us. The bed creaks as you scoot closer.


“I don’t think it’s possible to forget you,” I reply.


You snort. That cute little pig snort that warms my chest like hot cocoa. But you get quiet. Real quiet. Something important is coming.


“I love you,” you tell me in a whisper. Those bright blue eyes like the bluest skies in the summer.


I feel overwhelmed. The wave of emotions crashing into my chest, sending debris to my throat, and then sinking into my gut. I want to reply. I want you to know how I feel about you. I want to tell you all of the things I would do for you. I want prove what I want to tell you. No words. Just pure love.


But I fall short.


The world around me goes black before slits of light creep in. The world around me opens. Instead of the warm summery colors that sprinkle themselves between us and the world, I am left with a grayscale. I pat your side of the bed instinctively, but the warmth has left me ages ago.


I sigh into the pillow.


I don’t think the warmth will ever return to your side of the bed.