It will always be like a dream to me. Not in the sense that you were perfect—you barely were. It was a dream because it all happened so fast that I kept on doubting if it even happened.
I will love you like I always did—in between spaces, under hushed tones, hidden behind promises of friendship and seemingly innocent words. I will love you like I did in our conversations—virtual yet completely memorable. For in those conversations, I bared my soul to you more than I did in any other heart-to-heart talk.
I will love you like December with its days full of anticipation intricately laced with the probability of disappointment. I will love you like summer. I will treat you as a break, an escape I am allowed to indulge in but will inevitablyhave to let go of.
You would always be a dream. You'd be the one I wanted to have but I thought I'd never deserve. You'd always be a "what if," a curious chance I never took.
And in the end, I will love you like hot chocolate on rainy days. You'd be sweet, nice, and warm, but never enough. While the rest of the world wants your company, I'd always be complaining about you being too sweet, too nice, and too warm—or just being too plain for me. I will always long for the bitterness, the buzz that you could never give. It will take me a while to finally find something that will make me stay but I will always love you.
I will always love you despite the failure in timing and every other aspect. I will love you. And when I see you, I will smile because I do love you, in the way that I can but not in the way you wanted me to. We could have been, but I'm even more thankful that we weren't. Because otherwise, I won't love you.
Written by Ledda Marie Tuazon.