Someday we will be old and grey with sparkling, shimmering eyes and crookedly wonderful smiles. Notebooks from when we were teenagers, against the world and everything within it, will be lined on shelves in some sort of odd order or scattered across the living room floor (our backs couldn't handle picking them all up.) Each one filled with dream-like aspirations and moments we refuse to forget. Your hands will be leathery from playing guitar, too much that you can only teach others from the back porch instead. Every night we will sit on the silky piano bench (crimson with ebony designs to represent ourselves and the people we once were) so I can play the songs that mean the most to us. Sometimes you will put your arm around me a d whisper all our secrets again and when the song's delicate notes fade into silence you will pull me close for one of our unforgetable kisses. Other times, you will stand behind me, mesmerized by the perfection and grace. Early in the summer we will sit beneath the stars sharing sweet nothings and sugarplum touches. In the depths of winter we will curl up with each other listening to a friendly fire crackle as we take turns reading poetry, lyrics, and short stories aloud to each other (and children or grandchildren should they ever occur.) Someday we will be old and closer to our end. But we will feel young and free knowing that nothing could ever make us happier. The clock will be ticking, each breath keeping tally, and still there will be no fear or sorrow, because we were in love for all those years.
I know it's a lot and it may not be what you want but it's my attempt at telling you that I really do love you and hope that we have forever to share.
No comments:
Post a Comment