I write about you just to tell you that you are more than beautiful for me.
I write about you just to keep you in my mind, in my life. Maybe that’s the only thing I could do to keep you around me.
I write about you just to keep me awake and to disenchant me that you are just a dream. And it’s too good to be true.
Writing about you is the only thing that keep me away from insanity. At least, I stay at the ‘delusionally unwell’ level.
I make beautiful writings I could ever done about you just to remind me you’re the best thing ever happened to my life.
Writing about you is just about reading all the memories with you, and whispering all my hopes to you.
I write about us because I’m afraid that you will erase all the memories. And I’m too afraid there will be no “us” at all.
Unfortunately, you never understood. Or I haven’t been good enough to make you understand.