𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙎𝙀𝙏 𝘽𝙊𝙐𝙇𝙀𝙑𝘼𝙍𝘿 // 𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙀́ 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 - 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝘽𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙊𝙪𝙩 𝙏𝙤 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙊𝙛 𝘿𝙤𝙤𝙢

1965

"I tore open your letter and licked the envelope seal for any lingering taste of you."

-

March 01, 1965

My love,

How is the weather in Los Angeles? It's been raining a lot here in Belgium, I don't think I'm used to the fluctuating weather of the European countries. I miss the sunny weather of Los Angeles.

I miss you.

I spend most of my days burying myself in your sweaters, hoping to catch even the faintest smell of you; of your perfume. When I'm not laying in bed and thinking about you, Lisa and Jennie often drag me to restaurants where we eat the local cuisine. It's lovely here in Belgium and the food is to die for, perhaps we can come here together one day.

How are you? I know I don't have the right to ask that but I'm curious. I've been curious about what you do everyday. How are your films coming along? Do they help you fill the void that I've left? Is it selfish of me to ask that? Is it selfish of me to want you to say 'no' ?

I'm sorry.

We barely talked the day I left for tour. I didn't get to say goodbye properly and I never got to say sorry. Is it too late to say sorry?

I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry that I hurt you so profoundly. I'm sorry that I never told you. I'm sorry. I will bleed myself dry for you, I will empty my lungs until they no longer have enough breath to say how sorry I am.

I'm also sorry to say that I don't regret it.

And I hope you can forgive me for saying that.

I'm sorry, darling.

You must hate me and I can understand that. I will welcome your anger, your hatred if that means that one day you'll be able to forgive me.

When I'm on stage, I sing all my songs with the thought of you. You're constantly on my mind, you live in it. You've burrowed yourself so deeply within me that you are now a part of me. You'll always be a part of me, Y/N.

You don't have to respond but just know that no amount of oceans can keep me away from you. You are mine, you are my love, you are my heart in every life time and I love you irrevocably so.

You are my obsession. You are my love. I bleed for you.

Forever Yours,
Rosie

March 13, 1965

R,

It took me three days to open your letter. I was hoping that it'd take me at least a week to open it but my love for you, my yearning for you, made me open it up in three. Is it bad to say that I've read your letter six times? That I've traced every indent of your pen, every curve of your letters and wished that I was your pen and paper?

Sometimes I feel so pathetic for loving you this much because who can still love a woman who has hurt her so many times?