You always admire his works, his poems that was created with love, Luis was a poet you are a writer, everyone had admire both of you, but you admire him more. you admire his creative way of saying i love you, his words, the poems.

it was 12th of december, he was drunk, sleeping in both of your shared room, you have noticed the box, the beautiful box he had warned you not to touch.

but curiousity consumed you, you couldn't help but open it.. there you saw papers, they are not just papers, they were poems..

a poem that describe someone,

her hair was gold, my favorite color, her eyes were blue, my favorite color, her lips were red, my favorite color, her skin white as snow, my favorite color

every paper was the same, it describes someone, someone.. who isn't you, you never had blonde hair.. you never had blue eyes, your lips was never red.

your hands trembled as you flip the paper.

every paper was written the same.

my love, Alena