You have the beauty of Hellen of Troy, though I am sure you wouldn’t know her. Every time I look at those emerald eyes, I feel like I am in a maze — confusing, consuming, and terrifying all at once.
I met you, and I could smell instantly the intoxicating aroma of drama and I willingly inhaled it. I mean, who wouldn’t? You stood there, majestic, with those long, sexy legs, and suddenly life wasn’t the only thing that was hard.
If I had the gift of Shakespeare, I would have likened you to all the celestial wonders of the universe, but even the Milky Way galaxy pales in comparison to your beauty.
Your breasts, as steady and as pointed as thorns; your smile — oh that smile, it’s as if your teeth were dipped in ice and milk for conservation, and it was that magnificence that snatched my heart away.
Luckily, you felt the same way about me, I honestly don’t know how. I was totally content with you being an object of my imagination — a fleeting fantasy, that would drown me now and then. After all, the only thing I have going for me is a modest level of wit, and let’s be honest, darling, you weren’t exactly blessed with an abundance of intellect yourself.
I guess that will remain one of the mysteries of this young love of ours. Baby, of late you have been spending too much time on the fence, though. You can’t decide whether you want my undying love, or the cheap thrills that are available in abundance on the other side of the fence.
You see, love, I don’t split the bill, and I certainly won’t split your attention with anyone. You spend your days curled up in the embrace of your hollow friendships — empty, shallow connections that offer nothing but fleeting validation that disappear at the speed of light. I’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re not the brightest bulb in the room, but it’s time you realize that too, darling.
The other week you were nowhere to be seen, leaving my heart cold and frozen without your warmth. Reason? You were at your girls’ night out. Sweetheart, isn’t the entire essence of a girls’ night out that it happens at night? Why then, were you unavailable the whole week? What do I know!
You are always very quick to reap the fruits of our love, but when you want the cheap thrills, off you run along. You hold your heart close to your chest, while mine you play around with, how inconsiderate!
But, you see, darling, you have got to make a choice, and soon. Do you want to hop from town to town, club to club, drinking attention from the springs of men you don’t even know, while my spring overflows, threatening to break its banks, for nobody is drinking from it?
Do you want to ‘travel’ the world with people of empty souls, hard skulls, with the only thing going for them being their fat pockets, or will you slow down, and get drunk with my wisdom?
Have you not yet come up to the saying that says, speed that thrills, kills? What am I even saying, you wouldn’t have. You can’t even spell the first half of your name.
Darling, in the few months I’ve taken you for my ride, I have learnt to love your body as well as your soul. The body will fade away, but the soul will hang around a little bit afterwards. God! Just don’t waste your body away, because your soul is not the best of places, I have been down there, trust me.
It looks like the pen bleeds into the paper, but no, sweetheart, that’s all my heart. You have a decision to make, Peaches. Either push your body weight to the other side of the fence, or ask me to pull you to my side, and then we can start this game — afresh, and stronger this time round.
Let me wait for you as you nurse your hangover. By the way, in case you decide to use your body weight to topple yourself to the other side, stop drinking gin, and focus on vodka instead, that’s the cause of your hangovers.
If you ask me to pull you to my side, get dressed, let’s go for a road trip.
Cheers, Peaches.
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