Losers Don't Lose Everything

Dear, you,

I love you. The day you left me, my heart broke into a million pieces. It felt like you were an item in a claw machine. I picked you up with the claw for a few seconds and then you dropped back into the sea of teddy bears. Then another girl used the claw and won you for real. Did you really love me? You're her destiny, but I felt like you were mine. So I stayed quiet. I built a fence around myself, kept away from you. 

Do you remember that time, we were at Gran's Diner and 'The Power of Love' started to play? You ran to the cashier and asked her to turn the volume up. She was new, so she nodded awkwardly and followed your command. And you started to walk down the aisle past dozens of customers. They stared, but you continued to dance. And you looped your arms around mine and we marched down the aisle like we were getting married. People stared but you didn't care. I didn't either. And right then and there I knew it. I love you.

Every time I see you, my heart would get sliced into another piece. And now both of you are together. Does she call your name as I did? Do you hold her in your arms? Did you show her the full moon on the grassy hill? Did you stand there for what seemed like hours, admiring the mother of the night? Did you feel the same feeling that you did when I stood next to you? Love might not mean a lot to you, but it does to me. It's not a game.

You do not roll a dice and pick someone, then leave when you feel like it. For me, it's not like that. For me, it's a feeling that never goes away. I will be dead when you read this. I caught Meningitis, the day you left. And the day that you read this, I will probably be in my grave under the stars, lonely. People will bring flowers for a few months and then they will stop. And the flowers will wilt into shrivelled brown flakes like an old man's skin. 

You will never understand, but I love you. And I never will stop. Do you listen to our song with her under the bright pink lights on the dance floor? Do scream the chorus, 'Power of Love' and does she shake her hair up and down? 

I still have the pointy plastic ring that you won me in Wal-Mart, the one with the big google eyes that pop out like an alien's eyes. It sits in my room, never catching dust. Still the same shamrock green, clear as a crystal. Do you remember how long it took you to win it, maybe more than 70 tries? You came with like a hundred quarters and left with 30. On your second-last try, you screamed so loud that the manager told you to buy an actual product or leave. But you ignored him, I remember how hard I laughed. So hard that I had to stop and sit down. But you tried one more time and won the ring for me!

You were my thought as the bright sun came into the sky and your memory was floating in my head when I took my last breath.

 Yours,

Mira

I watch as he walks up down the grassy hill down the long stoned path. Past tall graves indented with names and dates, and tea pink peonies blooming in bunches. The thin crescent moon shines like the flesh of an almond. I can see his jawline. It is illuminated by the moon. He holds the letter in his hands, stumbling. Then he looks up at my grave. His expression is wary. His eyebrows are curved into arches. And the electricity of his indigo eyes flicker.

I watch as his eyes swim. A blue drop of water rolls down his face. He never cries, not even after I made him watch 'The Theory of Everything'. He just sat next to me on the leather couch, expressionless while a stream of salty tears ran down my face. 

I watch as droplets of water come falling down his red cheeks. And for a second, I don't feel like a loser. He loves me. The feeling returns to me, my heart feels like it's going to explode. And I feel warm inside. His figure towers over my grey grave, and I reach out my long transparent fingers, but they go right through his arms. I yell in at him, waving my hands near his face but he doesn't even flinch. He holds himself feebly, every robust part of his frame, turning frail and debilitated. He clutches his chest and lets out an anguished cry.

The loser doesn't lose it all. Because he still loves me. And I love him. And right now, I wish I was alive in his arms. He falls asleep in front of my grave, the white paper in his hand, and when I wake up, he's still there. The sun is a dark semicircle, spreading light behind him. He's changed into a new coconut white shirt and dark blue jeans. In his hands, he holds a bunch of eggshell coloured roses that gleam like glowing fireflies, wrapped in clear sky-blue tule. On top of the tallest rose, there is a shamrock ring that shines like an emerald in the hot sun. My ring! He lays it in front of my grave carefully. 

He still loves me... 

I'm going to love him forever. For a thousand years or more. Every day he will bring a batch of roses. And I will cry. First in sadness, then in happiness. Then he will be gone, married. He'll be living with a beautiful wife and children. But I will still love him. Somewhere deep in his heart, he will love me too.