Love you to the moon and back!

It is the first time cuddles that count in the whole story. The ideas of long term still seem blurry, but defined is the hope to be.

My guess: because the start freaks out both parties.

The intense love at first sight is overrated but the shallow feeling of wonder and desire and mixed thoughts coincide at the same time and it feels terrifying and good, surprisingly.

The more you are together, the less awkwardness in between. The big gestures come along, accepting each other plays a role. A little fantasy doesn’t harm, despite the growing tensions.

Then it happened. A little determination came in. The fear slowly decimated and courage was summoned in me. I started making promises: a nice vacation to the Bahamas, luxury everything I could afford, and the most precious one, love her to the moon and back.
Did i keep them all? Certainly not. But i never stopped trying, especially with the last one.

See, before the assumptions of making our love last, we didn’t know how to be with each other. We loved each other’s company, and the small talks. But after that it was complacent. However now, it was amazing. We’d gathered enough Intel—as I like to call the act of first dates when both sides are trying to know each other while smiling awkwardly—and knew what the other liked and disliked.

It was smooth from then, fast surely but smooth as we loved it.

If one could compare the efforts I’d gotten to reach her grip and leave a mark, with the ones I was putting in to make the mark more noticeable, you’d call me a fool. But it wasn’t my fault. Because on a cold Sunday brunch, it all ended. Just like that the only colours besides black and white I saw in her, disappeared. It wasn’t pain at that time, but surely rage. I was the one who thought that feeling was living, guess I stopped living.

They say you will live forever if a writer falls in love with you. But one thing they don’t know is that I’d only write about them if they’d break my heart. Because that’s how I put the pieces back together. Little do they know I have stopped loving a long time ago.

I’ve fallen in and out of love countless times, but I only ever truly loved once.

“I love you to the moon and back.”

That’s what I told her. I know because I went there. I know because I shot myself out there for her. They told me there was magic dust that would make me all better. 384,400 km away from earth, where nothing has ever been so quiet. There is no day or night, but I could see the sun from where I stand.
Yes, I went to the moon and I figured it out. All of it. I have got all fixed and healed. The world is just a tiny beautiful blue dot from all way up there. So beautiful, so silent.

In the silence, I relived my memory of her. Wondering if she missed me. If she thought about me too. If we looked at the same horizon.
I love you to the moon and back. The exact same words I repeat in this empty space. And I came all the way back here with moon dust on my boots and whole my heart to give. I came all the way back, all the way whole, and she said she missed me but she didn’t think I’d be that long. I could see the marks on her hand from someone else holding it. The deep etching of happiness and warmth.

I told you I loved you to the moon and back, and that’s what I answered when you asked me what took so long.

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