Forgotten

Have you forgotten the true meaning of our love?
Do you even love me as you profess?
Asked Amy with a volatile edge to her soft gentle
scream 10 yards across from him in the rain.
Jack responded with the most earnest look in his gray
eyes,
Of course I love you!
I love everything about you.
From the way you pin up your hair in the morning to the
way you love to dress like a boy wearing your brother's
hand me downs.
I love how I can always come to you for a good
competitive relay race across the park down the street
from your house.
Or the fact that I love how the violent streak that
rises within me every time a guy looks at you whenever
you walk past allows me to do the irrational, even for a
split second.
You have this air of beauty that follows you like a
helpless shadow waiting to reveal itself in the light.
Jack spoke so fast with such honesty beaming through his face that he
finished the last word out of breath, and that wasn't
even half of what he wanted to say.
Amy ran across the field into his toned tanned arms.
He held onto her with such ferocity seething through his skin
that she knew he didn't want to let her go.
He loves her.
If only he could say those three words by
themselves.
I love you.
He'd thunk it out loud.
An electric shock runs through Amy's bloodstream as
she looks deeply into his eyes,
she was searching.
Searching for the honesty that was
breaking its way behind the fear that
engulfed his senses.
I love you too.
He was shocked.
She had never said the words aloud either.
You see, they have a sort of mental
connection.
They can tell and feel the mutual fatal attraction floating between them,
yet they can never gain the courage to reveal the most perfect phrase
any couple can exchange,
I love you.
Jack holds her tighter and cuddles with her.
She closes her eyes and takes it all in.
Everything that she has ever wanted is
right here.
Why would she let go?
She shakes her head trying to remove these vile thoughts from her
innocent head.
Jack pulls away and looks at her,
Whats the matter?
He asks with concern ringing pounding through his voice.
Nothing nothing. Something was just tickling me so I shook it off.
Jack looks at her with a baffled queer expression.
Really?
He doesn't believe her.
Why not?

Author's Note

I cant bring myself to finish this. Honestly I think this story is crappy. However, let me know what you think. If you have any suggestions on how I can carry out the conclusion of this story, please let me know. Thank You.

Reviews

[Rose of Gondor]

Try to not write this story in poetry form. I mean, if you do that, it would be a poem. Not a story. Sorry if I sound........prim and proper....it's just that kind of thing sort of ticks me off....Now, you can say this is a poem that's telling a story. That works.

Other than that, this is a nice story that made me melt. It's cute. I think you should continue on.

[Anita]

this was extremely cute. I agree with dark rose that this shouldn't really be told in a poem form. Very romantic. continue!

[Veronica]

Thanks a lot guys.

[Haunzwürthe]

You have a definite starting point here. There are many different paths you can choose to take this, the foreboding pain of loss, lies, and nightmares, or the feeling of absolute freedom from finally being able to express those most inner kept secrets. I do agree with Dark Rose though, it should be in paragraph format. It will allow you to separate the thoughts more easily and may give you a clearer road ahead. Look forward to seeing where this goes.