An Endless Love


This romance can only be found in movies, songs, poems, short stories:

In fiction. In surf trips. In marijuana highs.

“I've never found endless love in people,” she says, “one way or another, everyone leaves, to a point of no return. Feelings, such fragile things, always die.”

Remember the boy who kissed you just before the semestral break, the one you've been holding on to for eight years? He just said about a week ago:

“If my girlfriend asks when was the last time we talked, please say sometime 2016.”

You remember the time when you both drank beer on the couch and shortly after, had sex for the first time. 2017. You declared that he was your one great love some two years ago.

And now you feel as if he's already gone in your life; he's disappeared as swiftly as the coming of a new fuck buddy that you just met over the weekend.

Coming home to an empty apartment, you cheerfully say, “I'm home!” (Perhaps to the ash tray and the mess of worn, but still clean, clothes on the couch.)

LOVE — what a motherfuckery for a monosyllabic word.

Bee Gee's More Than A Woman plays.

We can take forever, just a minute at a time.

This post was originally published in Literary Limerence by Mia Alcantara.