Be warned. Extreme feels past this point.
The original idea came from this USUK: post/31741389264/love-letters-to-him-usuk-translation
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I've been writing love poems to you for 15 years, Antonio.
But still no reply.
The first year, I was reckless. I wrote everyday without fail. I licked stamps relentlessly, delivering my heart to you.
I was reckless the second year as well. I didn't even notice when the house caught on fire. My clothes burned from the bottom up. I didn't notice until only my collar was left.
The third year, I calmed down. I published on online diary, and maxed out the hit counter.
The fourth year, I worked for a magazine. I addressed social issues. I decided to release a poetry collection, and turned my back on being a chef.
These love poems I've written for you. I've been sending them for 15 years. And still no reply
By the fifth year, I was a professional poet. I captivated women aged 20-34. But you were all I cared about; they might as well have been radishes to me.
The sixth year, my body broke down. I'd written more than 2000 poems. I'd broken every bone in my body, and every organ was damaged.
The seventh, I was in perfect shape. I imagined you as different things.
I didn't change in the eighth.
These love poems I've written for you. I've been sending them for 15 years, and still no reply.
The ninth year, I was in an accident. Apparently I hit my head badly. I forgot my own name. All I remembered was that I loved you.
My memory didn't come back the tenth year. But I still loved you.
It didn't come back the eleventh, either. All I wanted was a reply from you.
My memory didn't come back the twelfth or thirteenth year. But I still loved you. That was all I had.
By the fourteenth year, it still had not come back. I was anxious and frightened every day. I wanted a single glimpse of you. I wanted a single word from you.
In the fifteenth year, my memories returned. I remembered everything, and started to cry.
I remembered
that
15 years ago
you
died.
"Honestly. Was that really necessary, Romano?" Antonio asked.
Romano pouted. As Antonio started walking away from him, Romano put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. He wasn't sure why he'd done it.
Antonio turned around, his face red. He pulled Romano closer and kissed him on the mouth. Antonio pulled away with a smirk. Who's blushing now?
They walked home from the store, laughing. They had made up after the fight, and Antonio was glad. Fighting put both of them, and everyone around them, in a sour mood. They came to a crosswalk. The sign flashed "Don't walk", so Antonio stopped. But-Romano hadn't seen the sign. He-he was running across the street! Headlights flashed off to Antonio's left. No-Romano couldn't- Antonio dashed forward. "Romano!" He pushed Romano the needed few steps ahead- screeeeeeeech-thunk-
These love poems I've written for you; If I kept piling them up, would they ever reach you? I stacked them everyday, in the room that used to be yours.
I couldn't see you anymore, and I kept loving you but, I thought someday we'd meet again. And you're not here anymore.
These love poems I've written for you
I've been sending them for sixteen years
And still no reply
"T-Toni! Y-y-you dumbass!" Romano screamed, tears flying. "H-[hic]-how c-could you d-do this to me? Y-you left me all alone! I hate you!" Tears blotted up the letter that lay at Romano's feet. The last letter he ever wrote.
And still
no
reply.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Will hug for reviews~ /('3')\