Time will pass by and the flowers are going to wither along the parching of the broad seas and the searing of the memories in our heads. But the words— our words; those fragments of our beating hearts, those specks of our flaming desire, those shades of our shining passion— will stay. And for how long? As long as the sun shines upon the Earth in daytime and the moon and stars stuck together in nighttime.

Andre’u Dareen

You used to enfold me with your sweet irresistible kisses every morning, whisper evocative words to my ears as your gentle yet thrilling fingers run through the strands of my hair. I want you to know that I miss those times. I miss all of those old, seemingly unforgettable moments with you. Drifting through all the memories in my head, I’ve felt the once forgotten feeling again— that enchanting, stimulating sensation of astonishing profoundness. And it was beautiful— it was so unbelievably exquisite to an extent that it felt dreadful.

But tell me now. Because I want to know— if you are still mine just as I am still yours (and I forever will be), would you still be that same person who loves to give me all the possible existent love every morning, or would everything be different just as they are all so disparate now?