Dear,
I often find my thoughts lingering to the sound of your voice, the smell of your cologne, and the way your hands rested on my knees that late spring night in April.
I envision the stubble on your chin and feel the heat of your breath whispering secrets into the night wind. Words swept away quickly if I had not grasped them with my hands and held them closely to my heart.
The nervous patter of our hearts as we stole glances under a cool blue moon remembering a time that once was, and waiting for a future we hoped would never end.
I like to cherish the moment that we made the world stop turning and lived in a moving photograph; like the ones in a Harry Potter movie.
It wasn't the way your skin glowed under the moonlight, or your piercing blue eyes sending waves of shivers down my spine, or the way your fingertips brushed my skin- softly, passionately.
Closing the distance between us as your lips delicately caressed mine pushes hot electricity through my veins- the first time, the second time, and until the end of time.
Our story has lasted a thousand lifetimes over, and it will extend past people, and places, and timelines that only exist in storybooks. It isn't written down anywhere, but told through the constellations in the night sky.
I like to cherish the moment that you untangled your tongue from your teeth and admitted so softly that even the stars leaned in to hear you.
My ears burn at the thought of the sentences whispered on your breath with only the judgement of the moon herself to laugh at how innocent we were. She extended her beauty into the reflection in your eyes and washed your skin, your hair, your lips in a light that only angels are graced with sitting under.
And so it is this night, and every night since your confession that I hope and wish and dream that you remember me as the girl who took your face in my hands and smiled into your kiss uttering simply "I love you too."
Forever, Always, and until the last clock makes it's final tick, I hope you will let me love you.
Your Reagan
