Letter to my Love

Disclaimer: I unfortunately own nothing.

Hey you,

So, I'm sitting here and of course I'm thinking of you. Whenever I think of you, I think of how you spark all of my senses. I love the way you sound, how you purr when you nuzzle my neck. The way you smell, you've always had this interesting, yet intoxicating smell of jasmine and apples. I love the way you feel, I love when I get to hold you after a long day of rehearsals. The way you taste on my tongue, I don't think I can ever find something that makes my mouth water more than you. It's like I was dehydrated before I met you, and now my thirst is quenched and now I'm just willing to drown myself in you.

I'm not going to lie, at first, the aspect of being this invested in someone frightened me. I had never felt like this with anyone. But then I look at you and I realize just how much you make me feel. When I'm with you, I feel like I can climb Mount Everest. I feel like I can wrestle a lion. Haha. I won't, but I feel like I could. You give me strength that I had no idea I had.

You make my nerves stand on end. When you touch me, I feel like I've been struck by lightning, but in a good way. Even if I'm asleep, and you get home late from rehearsals, my body immediately knows and reacts to yours. I get Goosebumps and it sends shivers up my spine. Our love is electric.

I know you're probably wondering why I'm writing you this the way I am, especially after a year. But the thing is; I don't think I'll ever really accept the fact that you're gone. I'm going to take this letter and put it under "Our Tree". You know; the one by the lake with our initials engraved in it. I know I promised you that I would move on, live my life, and be happy. You don't know how bad I want to break it. But for you, I'll try my best. I'll never forget you.

I love you,

Your Quinn.

After I finish writing the letter, I seal it with a kiss and finally leave. But not before touching my hand to the cold marble star that read:

Here lies:

Rachel Barbara Berry

December 18, 1994 – November 16, 2012

"Shine on, little star"

Because metaphors are important.