His name is Gianluca.

He's a year my senior.

He possesses the cavalier, rugged, jaded, protective, wordly essence of Lip Gallagher in Shameless.

His eyes are an enchanting azure that I wish never left mine.

His pale, lean form forms the perfect antithesis to mine.

His gleeful grin falters my pulse  and his calloused hands run electric along my back.

We met a mere two weeks ago.

He kissed me the first time.
His face was covered in my lipstick. I can never again wear that shade without tasting him on my lips.

Our undeniable chemistry was evident to bystanders.
Our kaleidoscopic bubble was all we knew.

We plunged into our reckless abandon. Careless.
I knew he would leave.

Personal contentions were the architects of our sudden devastation.

He no longer wishes to embark upon anything with me.

Again, I knew this all too well.

I just wished we had gotten a chance to blossom before you cut our stem in the midst of this squall.

Despite this pain I would leap back to you in an instant.