Hello my dearest, I'm not completely sure if I'm writing because I have left some things unsaid, out of habit or if it's simply all I can do. Maybe all it is, is this feeling inside that I don't seem to be getting rid of.
There are still fragments of you where i wish they weren't. At the same time I don't wish for them to not be at all. It would be cruel to myself to have existed in a universe where your soul never walked in.
Maybe it's because you're my sun, maybe that I am nothing at all to you, but it keeps the moon failing to fulfill my wishes. I dont wanna know, it would make me certain that you and I can't be. What's life without that? There'd be no fire or meaning in my endless routines.
I am walking in a garden of thorns, but you- the idea that somewhere in the future i'll step on a rose, keeps my wounds healed enough to not kill me. I feel that in my every step your smell is there and something that sweet, you don't at once let go of.
Writing this to you, my love, is like force-swimming in my memory ocean. I try to recall the last time I saw you (happy) and all I get is an incredible ache telling me to stop killing myself with you. But how do you stop someone who wants to die? I have no mercy on me. I drag myself down the same stairs whenever I'm alone. Down to the very bottom of living without you.
Why? Why? Why?
Oh love, I hope you do forgive me, as I am but a sinner in love. One day you'll understand. You'll know that there is no cure for the unloved. I hope you find that in a movie, in a song or a poem, never in your heart. In that moment, love, do not feel pity for me. I loved you in the most elegant way one can love; at night when drunk and lonely, in my laughter in daylight, in the times I saw you kiss another. All my glances and sounds were dipped in a pool of pain, invisible to any but my own heart. That moment, I will love you still.
A smile,
A
