Wonderland of Love

Powerful Essays
I don't know what to do anymore.

She's ruining me, and I am absolutely, one hundred percent okay with it. The only thing I ever think about anymore, is Sage. Her. With those brown doe eyes, and those naturally pink lips that always felt like heaven against mine. Her, with the pale skin and dark clothes. Her.

I take another sip of my Coke; another long drag of my cigarette,.

Feelings suck.

"Hey. I got your message." Sage chirps in a slightly strange, bright voice. She licks her lips, before sliding across from me in the booth.

Fuck. I really do adore her.

The butterflies(yes, I still get butterflies) in my stomach erupt at the sigh of her magnificent features. Her smokey eye shadow. The cat tails that her eyeliner created. My insides and cheeks warm as our eyes meet; brown to green. Her oversized Christmas sweater hangs loosely on her shoulders, by passing the palms of her hands and almost touching her navy fingertips; and, for some reason, I find myself reaching for her infinitely smaller hands.

Her eyebrows scrunch in the slightest way, but she doesn't pull away. In fact, she weaves our fingers together, romanticizing the event in the most wonderful of ways.

"You are the single-handily most beautiful thing in this entire city." I stumble over my words, tripping as if I was walking in the dark.

Her cheeks flush primrose pink.

"Thank...thank you..." She whimpers, the pain at accepting the compliment visibly played out on her expression.

"You're also really adorable."

She scoffs.

"Alright, I can't accept that one. I can only take so many without laughing."

It's my turn to scoff.

But it's true, my dear. You're absolutely beautiful; and the time will soon. The time will come when I can finally reveal the hid...

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...Sage hum in happiness. I found that as something she did when she felt joy, or warmth.

I unlock the brown door, kicking my shoes off on the off-white carpet before setting Sage on the bed. The smell of cheap motel rooms and star crossed teenagers wafts through the air, as I stare out the transparent windows; out into the wild streets of New York.

"Come here." Sage hums sleepily, nuzziling herself under the sheets.

I happily oblige, crawling in next to her and letting the brunette cuddle close.

"You know, I have very conflicting emotions about you." I say quietly.

"Michael?" She looks up at me.

"Uh, yes?"

"You fancy me, don't you?"

I go quiet.

"Shut up."

She gives a tired laugh as my cheeks flush a heated primrose.

"I know you do, it's alright. I kind of adore you, too."

I really do think I'm beggining to love the smell of cheap motels.

And maybe,

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