"Though the gelid fingers of death 
Our hearts did chill, 
Mine did thaw to love you still, 
To love you with a love as 
Rabid and constant as before. 
So that my thoughts of you burn 
And smoulder without surcease, 
And merciful death can be my only peace. "

What happened to that old fashion type of relationship? The ones where you slowly fall in love with each other and you can tell that they’re the one just by looking into their eyes. The ones that are handwritten on sheets of binder paper with sappy love poems that actually came from their heart, and not from google. The ones where you always thought of each other as best friends, before you thought of each other as lovers. When you used to meet their parents instead of meeting the inside of their bed sheets. When you knew hearing rocks hit your window pane meant sneaking out, just to lay under the stars together. 

Sometimes I think that I was born in the wrong decade. I want to live in the time where going out dancing means going out to a fancy restaurant that has a dance floor with a live band playing swing music.
 Where most men were gentlemen and treated girls with respect, like ladies. Where you can wear pretty dresses with full skirts everyday without being asked if you’re going to a wedding. When cheating men and women were scorned instead of congratulated for getting away for it as long as they did. Where grand gestures of love were performed and marriages didn’t have a 50% chance of ending in divorce. That is where I would like to thrive.

I wish I could meet the ones where you couldn’t fall asleep at night because your life’s reality was finally better than being in your dreams.  The ones where when your heartbeats collided, you swore you’re listening to the next eighty years of your life together. When a boom box was still a way to confess your love for one another and giving your sweater up on a cold day was just as good as any love letter. When walking home together was normal and having your first kiss at the front door was something extra.

 When holding hands turned into never ending thumb wars and their smile is something you couldn’t get enough of. The ones where picnics at the local park were just as good as constructing pillow forts in their living room. When the talking stage lasted longer than a couple of nights and your virginity wasn’t misplaced, but handed over. The ones where true beauty came from their heart and not their face and where you would tie each other’s shoe lances. The ones where you only wrote your love letters in permanent ink because what you wrote down then you meant forever. And I wonder where this type of relationship has gone because my whole life I’ve been searching with no luck but, I still hope.

I wish to see the way things were when my grandmother and my parents were young. I’d love to see what exactly it is that makes them glare at the things my generation seems to worship. I want to see the respect they mourn, the values they speak of, as if they’re dead.