Rose; Soul mate of mine,
I am writing to you today to remind you of how much I love you, I’m writing to you today because life has been extremely chaotic between the two of us lately, and I don’t want that, I want peace to come back to our relationship, never in my life had I thought that I would ever love someone so deep the way I love you, I appreciate and cherish you in every way I always dreamed about, when you walked into my life, you brought happiness with you, even when problems get in the way, I still love you more than words can describe. You are constantly on my mind, you are with me in every single thing I do, and everywhere I go, you are the companion I never had, Ninique I want us to be the way we were “soul mates,” I missed you terribly, you are my one and only; you healed my past, you are my present, and my future; I have no other plans, I just want peace between the two of us, I don’t want us to waste time anymore, I am here for you, I want to be by your side, I want you to lean on me, Ninique you are my intended spiritual soul mate sent from our Creator in Heaven, the Maker of all nations, I am lucky and blessed to have you, I am forever thankful, I want you to know that our relationship means everything to me, and that I simply could not survive without you by my side, please allow me to continue to love and care for you like I used to, allow me to love you every single day of life, I am here for you Ninique, there is no one else I would rather talk with that only the two of us could ever think or plan, just the two of us Ninique, no one can ever come between the two of us anymore, I repeat no one, Ninique if I were to suddenly leave this world sooner than later, I would be overjoyed that I experienced such a rare and honest form of love, I had to meet you Ninique, to have been loved and cherished by someone wholeheartedly is a once- in-a-lifetime companion, friend and soul mate, I love you so Ninique, our relationship is my most treasured possession, and I will take this love with me everywhere I go, please allow me to be by your side, and be and continue to do what I have been doing from day one; love you, protect you, guide you, participate in everything with you until I officially take over all your worries, that’s all I am asking you Ninique, I love you so much..
I wanted to tell you this when we began dating, but you’re the most amazing person I have ever been around. You have the best smile, attitude, personality, and you’re just the reason I want to go to high school EVERY day. And I am really happy you accepted my past and let us be us. And this is the thing I want to tell you, YOU’RE REALLY ATTRACTIVE IN EVERY POSSIBLE WAY. And I just want you to know I WILL ALWAYS BE THERE WITH YOU MAYBE NOT REALLY BUT I WILL ALWAYS BE THERE IN YOUR HEART. I LOVE YOU.
Written by Autumn Hayes
I can smell you when you’re not around
and then these other smells creep in
and take me away from you.
Whenever that smell enters my nose
it takes me back to Dawson
and the hug you gave me.
We stood in your room
surrounded by cords
and clothes and shoes.
Do you wear perfume?
I meant cologne.
It’s cologne, for men.
It’s good for your significant other
to have a smell to associate with you.”
But we already have distinctive smells.
You already have a distinctive smell.
Do I have the staying power to corrupt your senses?
“What do I smell like?”
You smell like home,
like the future.
I will always love you, I love you passionately, and this passion has taken control off my heart and mind, you are all that I have Ninique, you are my companion, my friend, someone I look up to every day, I live for you Ninique, I have no other plans but you, please understand, I love you with the kids so much, it’s like I conceived them, they are part of me, Ninique I am just waiting for the divorce to be final, so we can get married right away, so I can devote my entire life to you, I want to be all that I can be for you, Ninique it’s only a couple of months, not even two months right? I want to do is hold your hands on our wedding day and tell the world that I love you desperately, Ninique my love for you was not born yesterday, it grew daily Ninique, I became so attach to you, this is beyond imagination, we shared so much Ninique, you may not understand that I keep falling in love with you over and over, I write to you when you are crossing my thoughts, and hurry to translate those thoughts into words, I believe by now I have a collection of love letters that I write just for you, this is how blessed and divine my love is for you, I love you with my entire being, you lift my spirit Ninique, the greatest thing I’ve ever learn with you is loving someone like I passionately love you while I am so attch to you, Ninique it’s like an interpersonal affection, total devotion and fully committed, I am so attach to you that I feel like I breathe through you, you became my world Ninique, it’s very different for me this time because I can refer this special type of love as an emotion of a strong attraction and personal attachment, like a virtue representing , compassion, love, romance and affection, I am enrich by you, it’s like a single soul inhabiting two bodies, that’s how close I feel to you, I have never loved like this before, was never attached to my previous relationships, it’s a spiritual attachment worthy of love and admiration, it has a particular trait: it has a purpose to fulfill, to love you even beyond eternity, it is enduring, I believe that the world was created for just the two of us, to me my love for you is the substance of life, everything is connected, I’ve been dreaming of you all this time Ninique, and now that I’ve found you, I’m looking directly at the eyes of love, I love you so much.
Written by Carl Nicolas for Rosenique Senatus
Last night I went out to dinner with my new friend. We went to this Chinese place by my old house; it felt like fall and I had on my denim jumper and my Adidas. We sat in the back booth and we were talking about anything and everything and then we got to the subject of you. Of course it was inevitable, anywhere I go or anyone I ever talk to, it always comes back to you.
We were sitting there bantering and she was saying how much she hates you and how you’re just a cheater, and a prep, and I should cut my hair since you always told me you loved it long and I should forget about the year and a half that made us who we are. I sat there in silence as she reduced you to just a few adjectives, until she ran out of things to accuse you of. Then I started talking.
And I still don’t really know where it all came from.
But I told her everything. One by one the bricks started to tumble down until all of my pallasades where nothing but piles of rubble at my feet. Meeting you for the first time, football games, kissing you at Christmas, seeing you after being in New Jersey for two weeks finally, holding your hand, the little parties at my house we’d have with all our friends, the way you’d spend all night up a prisoner to your insomnia, but you’d fall asleep with me every morning on the way to school, our limbs entangled, listening to your breath become even as the sun would start to rise creating little patterns on your skin that I’d aimlessly trace.
I divulged all the “I love you’s” all the “we shouldn’t do this” all of everything. The flurry of excitement, the butterflies, crying on my bedroom floor, too weak to even make it to the sheets. Too weak to even disguise the puffy eyes I’d be left with the next morning. I got up to the summer, all the things I’d done to you all the hell I put you through. That 3 am phone call when I was alone on the beach, hearing about boys whose names I’d forget but whose taste would linger, hearing me tell you about staying out all night just to wake up on the beach, going to random parties with people I met an hour before. The more I talked I could see her face changing, her expression softening. I’m not sure if she understood but as I raced through the story of you answering my call begging me to get home safe, the explosive fights we’d get into when someone started acting like they didn’t care enough and the awkward silence that would follow when someone would admit that they cared too much, the way you’d hug me from behind and cover my eyes, the things my mom said about how much she loved you. I watched as it all tumbled out in front of me.
Then I got to that Sunday night. I got to “I’m in love with you.” Even though it was wrong, even though you had a girlfriend, even though I wasn’t supposed to care anymore, even though I was strong and brave and independent. The excuses I made, the fronts I put up. How I locked the door and threw away the key. The secrets I kept, not telling you about my parents divorce, or the real reason I didn’t want to see you anymore, and why I was always yelling at you. How I didn’t tell you that in November you were my world and in December you where my galaxy and by January I was just floating in outer space because I was so hopelessly caught up in you that things like oxygen and gravity seemed totally irrelevant.
I told her about that night, when I came clean after we screamed at each other in front of your girlfriend, about how I cried in the stadium bathroom and the next day when my shaky hands typed out those three words, “I love you,” not like a friend, or your best friend that you sometimes kiss, or “your girl,” but as I love you.
Then I had to tell her that you didn’t say it back.
That instead you asked me if I could spend my whole life with you. If I could give it all up, England, traveling the world, my career as a journalist, following random bands on tour. If I could settle down, if I’d have your children, if I could be your future.
Then I had to tell her I said no.
I told her about the bone crushing sadness that ensused. About the seven text messages on my phone that have gone unanswered, about how I’m tripping over my shoelaces trying to race ahead of you and change. How I threw away all of our old polaroids together and your ID tag from freshman year that I’d tease you about, how I can’t even look at any of our old friends, how I’m going to cut my hair. How I started listening to more Led Zeppelin, and shopping at Goodwill, and had to make all new friends, and now I’m a vegetarian again and at this point I was crying because you know I don’t know what point I’m trying to prove, or to who, but I’m really in love with you and I’m trying my absolute hardest to get away from you.
But I can’t.
Cause it’s like crashing your car and then realizing you need to drive somewhere to get help.
You told my old best friend that you wanted to talk to me about getting over me. That you tried to talk to your girlfriend, but she just got frustrated and anyways she didn’t look at you the same. She didn’t listen the same.
I’m not sure what there is to get over though. I know I’ve been cold, I know I’ve been distant. I know that it’s been over two months since we’ve talked cause yeah, I’m counting. I know that lately I’ve been different and I’m still listening to bands you’ve never heard of except I don’t take the time to tell you about them anymore, and I don’t smile as much anymore even though I’m trying, and I avoid riding the bus just so I don’t have to see you, and I flirt with that stoner junior boy in your Algebra 2 class all the time just so he talks about me in front of you.
But I don’t get why that matters to you.
Cause at the end of the day I’m the one that’s in love with you.
See, when I asked you what this meant, what you wanted to do I got silence. I got read at 1:02 am. I got to see you kiss her in the hallway, I got to hear “he’s asking about you again,” I got to hear from all of our friends that I was doing the wrong thing. That I owed you an explanation, that it wasn’t right to ignore you that this was killing you despite the fact that my blood was still all over your hands from the last time you shot me in the chest.
Part of me thinks it’s because you love me too.
Part of me believes them when they say we have what everybody spends their lives searching for. That you care about me more then anybody ever will, that I’m everything to you. That you’re just scared because I make you wonder, that there’s no guarantee with me. That I don’t think things through and I’m impulsive and that scares you. That you’re just scared of the butterflies casue they always felt more like bees. That you like comfortable, you like planned futures and white picket fences. You don’t like Tokyo one year and Manchester the next, you don’t like uncertainty.
But you love me anyways.
You can take my chipped black manicured hands in yours. You can take my panic attacks and crying episodes, you can take my commitment issues and big plans. That despite everything you’re the only person that’s ever really gotten through to me. You can talk me down when it’s 2 am and my finger is inches from the trigger. You can get me to put down the gun.
All of our friends say that no one else can evoke that from you. That I’m the only person that makes you start to second guess yourself, that doesn’t fit perfectly into your color-coded, alphabetically organized world. I was the first person you ever let color outside the lines, leave your bed unmade. The first person you ever let jeopardize this illusion of perfection you upheld so tightly. Maybe it’s because I’m the only person you can fall asleep with.The only one that you can justify stupid decisions, and ambivalence, and tripping down the steps cause you’re too busy trying not to lose sight of me.
But obviously you can’t love me that much. Maybe somewhere between “I love you” and “I’m in love with you” I got caught up and you never did. It’s just hard to hear “I love you” so many times and not start to believe it. You still have a girlfriend even if you tell me you love me each one comes with a silent “but not enough” that I neglected to hear over the course of that year.
But I remember when your friend died and you were crying on the phone to me.
I remember when you found out my parents were getting a divorce and I had kept it a secret for 7 months and you told my best friend nothing had ever hurt you worse.
I remember you meeting my family.
I remember all of our friends racing down my old street, the music you’d listen to, the way your smile would change throughout the day-soft and slow in the morning and like lightning in the afternoon.
I remember it all.
And I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. A reason to move on or a reason to hold on.
And I lay this out to her alongside her ramen noodles and sushi and she doesn’t know what to do with it because I don’t either.
She asks me if I talk in poetry and then she starts second guessing it. She starts talking about soul mates, and maybe I really do love you, and maybe we really are meant to be, and maybe I shouldn’t be ignoring you. And the next thing I know she’s calling you from some unknown number while I try to convince her that you don’t want to hear from me and I’m begging her to put the phone down because I couldn’t take the thought of you answering and I couldn’t handle the thought of you not caring enough to pick up.
But the call fails.
I know that it’s the bad reception in the restaurant. I know that it’s because we’re the very last booth in the whole place and that you can’t even send a text message let alone make a life altering call. But I’m the same girl that believes in astrology and has healing crystals on her windowsill. I still believe that it’s the universe’s way of telling me it’s unsure too. That it’s just as ambivalent as I am. That I’ll never know if you would have picked up on the first ring or declined on the third, if we would have been perfect for each other, or spent the next two years tearing each others lives apart.
My phone buzzes again, it’s a text from you asking if I called. Too lazy to try me back. It was then I realized that there was nothing to decide. That I’d be always be waiting for a phone call when I’d only ever get a text message. All I’d ever gotten was a few quick characters rife with abbreviations and spelling mistakes. That you hated the sound of your voice on the phone and you didn’t care about me enough to go through the discomfort of hearing it. That you’d put in some effort, but you’d never give me your all.
It was when I paid the check that I noticed for the first time in two months my hands didn’t shake. That night I went home and cut my hair and the long strands that you once adored wound up in my trash can. For the first time maybe since we met I did something with no intention of eliciting any response from you. Yes it’s uneven, yes I did it with safety scissors, yes some pieces in the back are longer than those in the front. It’s not perfect but at least you don’t see me the same.
It started with a mistake in planning, human error, twist of fate. It was my first time in this new country, and the pick-up taxi never came.
I contacted work, letting them know no one showed up, but it was ok. I can take a taxi by myself.
“No, it’s 2 a.m. someone from the company will pick you up shortly, don’t worry”.
I took my luggage and sat down in the only available coffee shop, fighting sleep. I got a phone call, and then I heard your voice. Something about it made me instantaneously relax. Perhaps I heard home in your accent, or maybe it was the raspy sound of your sleepy voice.
“I’m sorry I woke you up didn’t I?” I asked, and you laughed.
“I’m coming, I’ll be there in five.”
And then I saw you. I looked up at you as you stood there, your big brown eyes smiling from behind your glasses, the ones I love (not the frame-less ones – please never wear them again).
You smiled, and I dismissed the bubbly feelings in my stomach, blaming it on hunger.
We shook hands, introduced ourselves, and you took my luggage – ever the gentleman – while asking me about my flight. You were chatty, wondering about my interest in this company, my college degree, my story.
“I’m asking way too much yea? Sorry”.
I smiled and said “ask again tomorrow, no worries”.
I looked back into the trunk of your car, and I saw tents, camping equipment, things I adore. And just as we started talking about our love for nature, our thirst to explore, I saw it. The ring on your right hand, and I swallowed.
The question died in my throat; it was ok, I can ask you tomorrow. You safely dropped me at the hotel, wishing me a goodnight, saying you would see me the next day.
Ten days of music, conversation, shared looks and contemplations. It was all harmless right?
You told me about your past, how some girl had broken your heart, how you decided to think rather than feel, how you met your fiancé, and what has brought you here.
You asked about mine, and as I talked you looked deep into my eyes, and I knew you understood. But you were engaged, and I wasn’t that person; you weren’t either.
Then there were slips. Too much alcohol; you held my hand.
Too much time spent together words were said.
“I wish I had met you at a different time” you whispered. I had never wanted anything more.
Six months later, six months of little conversation and bitterness and distance, you got married. I saw your pictures on social media, and I choked. You looked happy. I wanted to believe you were. I loved you, more than I had ever loved anyone.
Fate played its cards again; we met in that same country, your now wife still back home.
This didn’t stop being a love letter when you got married. This stopped being a love letter when you changed. And not in the normal, “I got married” way. I understand you are confused, I understand that “I was the first one who made you feel again”, but I don’t understand how you take me for granted. How you assume I have put my life on hold for something that will never happen.
You will never leave her – it wouldn’t be a rational decision, and you, you rational man (who has shown day in day out you were anything but), would never do that.
Twenty one days. Twenty one days of anger, bitterness, fights and sorrow. We kissed. We cried. We cuddled. We made mistakes. But then you look at me with your chocolate eyes and that smile you save for me, and I almost forget; that you never were mine and never will be. These twenty one days were enough to scar me; enough to help me start getting over you.
We used to be different, we used to be perfect. But this is not another time, and I’m done wasting mine.
This is not a love letter. This is a letter about the love I felt for you, the one I still feel.
Until we meet again,