I’d always loved you.

You combed your hair carelessly in a beautiful chaos and didn’t take a bath on some lazy December mornings.

I’d always loved you.

Not for the woman you were aspiring to become, but for being the broken unicorn, in constant denial of everything around. I’d always loved you.

All your impeccable flaws cast a spell on me. The winter patches on your skin and those chapped lips of yours, and the cute little mustache above them.

And oh, your eyebrows. You had me at the union of your eyebrows. I’d always loved you.

Credits: Jarmoluk (Pixabay)

Credits: Jarmoluk (Pixabay)

You cracked adult jokes and I loved it, along with your incessant giggles and your unabashed laugh and your sense of poetry and everything else even remotely associated with you.

I’d always loved you.

Every fucking love song that I’d heard reminded me of your face and I couldn’t dare to alter my imagination. That is why I fell for the lyrics more than the melody, I guess.

You loved chocolate boys and Chris Evans and the strong veins that his arms possess, but I’m sorry, darling, that mine did not. And I would have hit the gym if you needed me to, for I’d always loved you.

I’d always loved you.

Your raw pain and your cosmetic smile riveted me. I could see your gray soul and that jarred machine that they call the human heart, and you doubted if it still had a beat.

I’d always loved you.

I kept saying it again and again, like a spiritual chant. But maybe for some reason, you couldn’t hear it. I’d always loved you.

And still, I will always love you. But goddamn it, you never will.


Sent to The Scribbled Stories by Ashish Sharma

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