For You, Dawn

Hey Baby

I thought I'd create something special for you, something that is eternally on the internet for you to see. I need you to understand that I love you so much, and I am so lucky to have you in my life. I am extremely sorry for what I have done, and I hope you can forgive me. I am not that person anymore, and I will never be that person again. I see where I was wrong, and that will not happen again.

The time I've had with you has been better then no other, I genuinely enjoy your presence so much. It is insane how I can just never grow tired of you and always want to be around you. This weekend especially was so incredible, us doing work, eating food, hanging out, listening to music, and sleeping together. It was so perfect, and I am so lucky to have you in my life.

My Promise

I want you to know that you mean the world to me. I promise to do better, and to never hurt you again. I am truly sorry. I love you so much.

Something I wrote

The once brightly illuminated paper had begun to wane. Darsh’s craned neck finally looked up; his shoulders unrolled. His eyes, used to parchment riddled with text, recoiled at the sheer vastness of the space around him. The ambient source of light that screamed of some higher power began its descent, ending and starting life in a single stroke of perfection. ‘The Golden Son’, the book that captivated Darsh for hours, seemed pale in comparison to the falling sun. The sky’s azure canvas was painted with a hue of peach. Sahar sat opposite Darsh, noticing his shift in posture and sudden vigor, she looked up from her own laptop. Darsh’s soft brown eyes had a life to them unexplained. His iris glowed while his pupils danced. Sahar’s eyes were only set on him, while his on something bigger, something better—the world. He took the deepest of breathes. A hint of aged wood and petrichor fills his nostrils. The tanginess of the dandelions, the sprouting of buds, the monsoon has come early. The ecosystem thrived in the vegetation that surrounded them. All type of melodies could be heard from the abundant Nightingales, so beautiful, so sonorous. Darsh, who was in love with the fictional reality’s that were orchestrated by his mind and words, understood true beauty for the first time. Sahar was losing to the colourful horizon dashed with greenery, something needed to be done. She went inside. Unnoticed. As she came out the aroma of fresh tangerines overpowered the livelihood of the Earth. Darsh’s deathly focused eyes finally broke their silence and locked onto his lovers. Her hips swayed as she walked, as did her hair in the wind. He was the most successful man in the world. She sat adjacent to him, thighs touching. Her face had an ethereal glow, that of caramel. Darsh looked away, blushing. His face turned peachy like the clouds. Darsh whispered a thank you as he indulged in the perfectly cut orange slices. The liquidy innards squirted out over his face, its sweetness overwhelming. Sahar pecked his cheek, getting the rest of the fruit off his mouth. “What a joyous dawn!” He exclaimed. It seemed life was finally bending to his will, to his imagination.