They reached for each other yet never quite touched because of similar dreadful history. They were a pair of abandoned apricots. Leftovers, spares, uneaten, untouched, unwanted. Not enough.
Too scared of abandonment, so instead, they made agreements sealed with signatures and not a kiss. Too afraid of attachment, so they didn't have any strings. Too terrified of being torn apart, they promised not to get close.
Eating pancakes with apricot jam, making sure their hands didn't touch as they reached for another one.
Watching TV together, with 2 metres between them, to ensure nobody got any ideas.
Walking through an orchard of apricot trees, not too close together, since the awkwardness would droll over them.
Golden drops of sunshine, windows flung wide open, yet they didn't smile at each other since it would make things weird.
Apricots and honey in the air, ice cream cones on the pavement, yet they didn't allow themselves to feel the summer, the love.
Maybe they were destined to be leftovers, spares, uneaten, untouched, unwanted. Maybe they were destined to be a pair of abandoned apricots.
Life with her smelled like fresh lemons with a bit of mint aside. Sour, yet gratifying, since it was the perfect combination. He could taste her love on the tip of his tongue. It savoured like just a baked sweet cinnamon roll with a little bit of chilli hidden inside. She knew how to make everything piquant but then calm the whole situation with her sweetness. Her euphonic giggles that echoed in his ears reminded him of a lullaby. The smell of her perfume was floating down the stairs. It scented like vanilla ice-cream cones under an October sky; benumbing but delicious.
Her love made him feel like there was too much going on at once, yet it was so wonderfully simple, putting him at ease.
But as much as love tends to be flowers, holding hands and cute dates, it's just one part of it. Sometimes it's about whether we should hold on or let go. There are times when letting go and making sacrifices means love.