Author's Notes: This love letter was written during an English lesson of mine. Inspired mainly by William Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 and a poem my friend wrote a while ago which I shall include here. This version hasn't been revised yet, and for some strange reason, I want it to remain that way. So apologies for grammar mistakes. I suppose it's also a small apology because I haven't been writing lately, but I'll have another story up soon, I hope. I guess that's about it. The love letter isn't intended to anyone personally, but there are some things in there which connects to me in some twisted way.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Just like chewing gun
I am stuck to you.
- Yonder-chan.

Dearest Love,

I shall not say I miss you even though I do. Because I have not lost you yet, have I? You’re there. You’re with me. I remember everything about you like everything just happened in my most recent heartbeat.

I won’t lie like most girls do and say that you smell as sweet as roses. You smell like some sort of perfume brand, strong and secure. Sometimes you’d smell like peppermint from your last chewing gum, and like the gum, I am stuck to you. At other times, you smell like sweat after a hard day playing sports, and whenever that happens, fifteen minutes after you come home, you’d smell like soap, sweet and welcoming. Always.

You’re no singer or superstar, I have to admit. Your voice is too deep, and you sang like some sort of trout gasping for air, but that voice suits you. It’s a lovely voice. Your whispers are gentle, only loud enough to reach my ears sometimes. Like when you proposed to me, on that rainy day when we were stuck, stranded, wetness chilling our bones. Definitely not the most romantic place for you to propose.

That’s another thing about you – you’re not romantic at all. I think the rainbow pitied me, so He smiled when I said yes to you. But even though He was lovely, I still wanted you. That voice… I loved that voice when you asked me to marry you. And it’s not even “Will you marry me?” or “Let’s get married” or even that line “Will you spend your life with me?” that always manage to make girls like me fall head over heels. No. What you said was “Wanna spend your life with me?” which I guess… is good enough. You weren’t romantic, but you tried your best. You were original, that’s all I can say. When you whisper, your voice reaches my heart, and my ears. It’s a wonder that your voice reached me at all above thunder, lightning and rain.

You had looks, everyone always said. But unlike anyone or anything else, you didn’t take advantage of that. If only you start combing your hair, neaten your collar or even try to iron your clothes sometimes, you can pass as a young star, I’m sure. But you didn’t care about that, you caught my heart anyway. Straight nose, high cheekbones, long eyelashes and thick eyebrows… you had it all that would make any woman melt. But you didn’t care about that.

I’ll come back to that rainbow, your only competition. Remember it? It appeared, pitied me and wanted the moment to be a bit more romantic, I think. I wonder if the thought ever crossed your mind that I would accept the rainbow instead. My friends would say so, because you weren’t romantic at all.

But I did choose you, in the end. There was no hesitation on my part; only breathlessness. I kissed your lips, tasted the usual, sweet peppermint taste on my tongue. You weren’t romantic, but you never lied. You loved me, and if a thunderous, rainy day was the right time for you to realise it, then so be it. I will not quote those cheesy love phrases from best-selling novels. I shall not say that “it doesn’t matter if all those are lost because I love you that much to accept you, even then”. I won’t say that.

Your messy looks, the peppermint scent and taste of your lips, the hard voice, the coarse surface of your gentle hands, the lack of romance in you… I love that. It made you. I don’t want a handsome, empty shell. Without all that, you would be a lie. The qualities of our love, created by such small and simple measures – that’s where it’s most important.

Though you may be, you are not the perfect man. But to me, you are who you are. If that’s not perfect, then I don’t want perfect.

Your love.