Nine. Your eyes sparkled with symphonies and I wanted to be the orchestrator. When I’m with you, the rest of the world is just background noise.
Eight. When you said my name for the first time, it felt like someone was pouring concrete onto my heart.
Seven. We kissed and I swore I felt like a ticking time bomb. Your lips tasted so, so sickly sweet. I could’ve sworn they were pomegranate seeds, and I, a hungry Persephone.
Six. I always thought Paris was foolish to have brought Helen to Troy. But dear Paris, now I understand. Now I understand.
Five. There’s a drawer of my things at your place. We were polaroids by day, police sirens by night. But we were poems, all the damn time.
Four. I never liked quizzes, but when mum asked questions about you and I answered them all confidently with shy smiles.
Three. You soon began to wrap your arms around me like a broken promise. I didn’t notice. You wrapped your lips around mine like an apology. I didn’t mind. You loved me like a question. I didn’t ask for an answer because you loved me nonetheless, right? Maybe I should’ve.
Two. We were scary silence in a room full of loud laughter. We were seventy miles per hour in a zone of thirty. We burnt so fiercely, it blinded the stars.
One. Dear Paris, riddle me this, was she worth it? Was she worth the blood of thousands of men? Was she worth Hector? Priam? Patrocolous? Ajax? Achilles? Was she worth losing yourself over? I know she had dreamy lips and dreamy eyes, but was she worth the homes that turned into ash?
Zero. Dear Paris, prince of Troy, you were foolish and so was I.