I Still Love You

 

By

Chukwukwe Eugenia Adaku

I want to write a song for you. I want to sit at my piano and tinker around with the delicate melody that I can hear distinctly in my head, the rise and fall of the legato phrasing complementing the heavy but languid chord progression of a tremendous harmony. I want to make each note dance precariously between a major and minor key—just like true love—but ultimately reveal the swelling and uplifting theme at the end that imparts a lingering aftertone of pure bliss. But sadly, I’m not a composer—just a hopeless romantic.
But I still love you.
I want to sit and scribble out words of such wrenching lyrical power that you’ll swear I plagiarized Aphrodite herself. I want to push my own patience as I cross out and rewrite and cross out and write again the same phrases, over and over, contemplating whether or not to
substitute a word or phrase to better convey the language of my heartsong. I want to tell a story that needs no flourishes except for those that occur naturally, unintentionally, and internally. But sadly, I’m not a writer—just a hopeless romantic.
But I still love you.
I want to surprise you with this gift at a moment when you’re caught flat on your feet. I want the thrill and amazement and embarrassment and happiness and curiosity and love to embed directly into your heart. I want to make this grand gesture an unforgettable moment for the world— your world, your memory—in the privacy of a place only we share, and make you cry with joy when you feel your heart break and simultaneously reattach itself, clinging to my own, joined by the tissues of pure love and emotion, inseparable in strength. But sadly, I’m not a performer—just a hopeless romantic.
But I still love you.
I still love you more with each beat of my heart, set dancing to the rhythm of your soul-catching words. I still love you more with each lingering blink, hoping to glimpse you when at last I open my eyelids. I still love you more with each word I type, trying in vain to convey just how much I love you. And there’s no end in sight—I can continue to fall in love more and more and more.
Time won’t always be our enemy—one day it will be a blessing. It may be against us for now, forcing a small cushion of distance, a hairsbreadth of space that prevents us from melding into one.
But I still love you.
More than anything.
Always, and forever.

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