I remember the first time that we met, young and temperamental versions of us interacted. We never had a thing for each other. Our lives briefly crossed each other, like the strangers that passed by at the escalator that moved in different directions.
That, itself, was the very beginning of something beautiful in time to come.
We texted for the first time. We called each other for the first time. There wasn’t any effort required to fuel the conversation. It kept going on like the flames of a warm campfire that will never cease. We got closer.
We wrote each other letters for the first time. We graced the stage together for the first time. It is as though fate pieced all of these together with such delicate affinity that it seemed like magic. The fire burned on. Brighter, warmer.
You cried for me for the first time. Your concern for my safety brought out the fear of losing me. You didn’t want to lose me in your life. When I saw tears rolling out of your eyes, upon your cute cheeks, I felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude, happiness and sadness all in a mix. As I wiped the tears off your eyes, I know.
I was in love.
We went for a date for the first time. I took a picture with you in my arms for the first time. Sitting by the river, with you in my arms. It was as though time didn’t want to move. As though the wind held its breath for us. As though the stars shone brighter that night. Yet, the prettiest view was still you. I wasn’t taught how to love. You showed me.
We never dared to promise each other that in fear that this will not work out. We told each other that if it is time to let go of this, we would.
Your face flushed bright pink, in the cutest way possible. I feel your heartbeat hastening when we hugged. It felt like we were two puzzle pieces created just to complete each other. The way you came into my arms just felt so right. We shared a kiss for the first time. A kiss that synced our hearts in tempo.
And that was the same day that we got together.
The day that I told you,
I love you.