ph: Martyna Galla
"We're so fairytale it makes people sick," is you. Is me. Is us.
I hadn't seen you in four and a half years and I was hungry for
something new. When you unexpectedly texted me just before
Thanksgiving, I felt as though I had found a key to a safe long
forgotten; so many treasures simply left to sit, waiting to be
rediscovered. We continued talking and before long we were planning to
meet. Sure, we went to school together years before and the memory of
your face was faint, but our instant attraction felt so familiar. The
moment we saw each other, we knew that we were ready. That night was a
night of adventures: retro pizza diner, first kiss on the beach, and
holding each other during every moment of every movie we would sneak
into. It was so perfect, it wasn't real. You made me feel like
anything was possible and in fact, it was true-- nothing stopped us.
As I type this sentence, I can still feel the kiss you left on my hand
while I was driving.
We met again and again after that. We saw each other for three
Tuesdays. Three wonderful Tuesdays of kissing in the library stacks,
reading poetry to each other, and laughing at waiters. The timing was
right for these past three weeks but now, you're across the country. I
miss the fairytale we built, the castle we built together. It kills me
that we can't keep adding new chapters to our story because time is
driven us to separate places. It kills me that I am beginning to
forget the little details. It kills me that I cannot replace you. We
made people sick with our quick love. You are a virus that I don't
want to be cured of.
You told me I was your queen.
And you
are
my king.
