Until We Met: A Love Letter

Tómas,

I fall a little in love with everyone I meet, but I think a piece of me fell in love with you for real. I have thought about this for a while now, replaying our adventures in my head. From those hot ass Parsian nights where nothing but cigarette smoke and lilac lingered in the air. To the Spanish nights, how the lyrics to every song sounded like sweet poetry and the aroma of the orange trees filled the air. I remember you. How your smile shined through the dark alleyways as we both squatted for the sensation of relief. Those were the moments that made me think. All my favorite stories include you, yet here I am writing to you. We both have someone waiting for us back home, but I had to say something right?


We spend our whole lives living and wondering what sets our souls on fire, that’s how I felt when I was with you. I don’t think we were meant to be in this life but most definitely soulmates in the past one. The night we broke into the Vatican was one of my favorites.

Running from the guard as he yelled at us in broken English and very loud Italian, while we tried to get my sandal back on and not to drop the ‘vino.’ That we somehow lifted from an outdoor table as the waiter was cleaning. ‘How fucking wasteful?!,’ you’d shout every time we passed by an unfinished bottle accompanied by a half-eaten plate of pasta.


Reckless, that is always how I describe my time with you, yet so fucking fulfilling. Did you ever feel that way? I bet you felt it too. People call it electricity, most nights I felt you exude that energy. Pure excitement for what would happen next, but never one for sincere danger. I am still mad at you for not letting me jump in that brawl in Rome. I just wanted to see the men get a little rowdy and break shit. But nnnoooooo, you had to pick me up and escort me to the uber because ‘we aren’t here to be involved in others' mess.’ I found comfort in chaos before you because it was so familiar.


You would never admit it but I know you miss that you too. That free fuck who would leave his heart out on the dance floor after a few drinks. That guy who never saw something as an obstacle but rather a new adventure. The man who jumped off the cliffs of Capri without knowing where the closest port was. The gentleman who held my hand whenever we were in the dark and gave me his jacket when it was cold. When we came back to the states you told me I probably wasn’t gonna see him again. I still plead with you to let him out, I also know why you won’t. I know you’re going to marry her, but deep down I think you know, that man fell a little bit in love with me too.

So please, let him out.

With Love,

Isabella

Heathens Rag

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