Short Love Stories That Will Make Your Heart Explode

What do you remember about me?

I’d like to think my eyes. The smoldering ember when you looked into them, how you said they scared you because they looked at you and made you feel like they could see everything, how they made you feel hungry and made you feel weak, how you said they were the sexiest part of a body in any woman you had ever seen.


Do you ever see them when you close yours at night? Do they ever haunt you in dreams? Do you ever look into hers and wonder who is looking at me?

What about that red corset and the matching lipstick? Surely, the black and gold one, though more champagne than golden, the eye clasps at the front, with the ribbon that tied at the back. I think I wore it for you twice, once on a hot, humid, August night, and on a stormy one, years before, in a different town.

Do you remember that night?

You kissed me, not for the first time, but with a ferociousness then that could not be kept in the cage in which it was brought to life – untamed and feral. Your mouth was a match, mine was the kindling. We kept on, tongues dancing in a frenzy, one of us the frame of a burning house, the other the diesel. You kissed me, undressing thoughts I wasn’t aware I had, stripping away at my soul, uniting me with desires kept in the darkest corners of my brain’s inner corridors. You kissed me, turning the light on in every room inside my body.

You saw into me.

You kissed me, wrapped your hand around my throat, how did you know?

You split open a universe.

“Probably someone should take this girl in his arms and hold her tight, I thought. Probably someone other than me. Someone qualified to give her something.” — Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle