[ MY DEAR SOLDIER ]

"John, are you there? Have you really ended up as a portion of this breeze?"

I don't truly believe but people say he has. Then again, I don't seem to care for I have heaps much faith in his one promise than millions of their verses. They say no further I shall be able to sense him in this real world. Thus, I embrace my eyes and roll myself deep through the sonorous silence of this virtual world; a domicile where I can discern him, walk abreast his shade and share an affectionate tenderness till the end of time. I have forever smelled love in his fragrance and nevertheless, it never seems to decrease.

Days are good to go but it's the nights that haunts me with his absence. That bed, that couch, those pillows, the curtains; the whole lots appear lifeless without him. The mattresses feels the deficiency of his warm sweats, those pillows miss his caring arms, the curtains are in thirst of his touch and this house; it thrives for his presence. And he has disappointed them every single time.

I remember those glorious winter days when he would be granted with a day break and he would come running into my arms. When both of us would conspire ourselves in-between a single slice of cloth and I would feel the true grace of love in each touch of his flesh. I don't reckon how but I would twist quite mischievous in his presence and maybe that is what love is all about; being a bit insane.

In some moments of times when he would return home wholly tired at midnight and throw himself onto the bed; I would cuddle his stomach because I always loved bothering him. He would remain paused showing no response to my efforts and I would be deceived by his deeds. I would twist myself angry and turn to the opposing side. After a moment or two, I would feel a texture of flesh over my arms. He would be slipping the gentle steps of his finger crafting my arms as his only subway. I would offer him no response and act alike he did because I assumed he deserved that ignorance.

He was a military officer and the very better thing about him; he would never give up. He would constantly stir me and no matter how firm I try to hold myself to that angry portion of me, I would eternally end up missing ownself into the midst of his love.

And he would speak in that adoring voice," Jane, you can't predict how much I am in love with you?"

I would try to stop myself and stay with the same ire but the deepness in his words would pull me off from my philosophies and push me to the losing flank. I would be obligated to give up my rage for nothing could ever stand infront of genuine loves.

After that I would roll myself towards him, quickly kiss on his lips and say, "Sorry to say dear, but I am a bit weak in predictions." And he and I would laugh and share love for hours till the dawn.

During sleep; he would embrace me firm within his arms. He would place his hand over my chest and fall asleep into my body. Some nights, he would grasp me so tight that he would hold up my breathes and curl it difficult to exhale but I never complained and let the situation drift for I felt secured and loved amid those taut arms. He never allowed me to sleep easy for some nights he would snore so loud that I could barely avoid that horrible sound and take a nap and some other nights, he would place those hefty feet over mines that I could hardly avoid.

But now, as he has not been home since long ago, I miss those obsessions. When I amble towards that silent room and glance at that lonely bed, I miss his snoring. When I close my eyes and feel hollow, I miss his bulky feet being placed above mines and now I sense how important that was for without the fragments of him, I am always incomplete in that huge bed. I would rather stop my breathes over and over again if only stopping them now shall lead me to his arms.

I persist on closing my eyes and breathing aside my Dear John rather than opening them and drawing the sketches of real life for there's much more truth in my virtual world than it exists in this real world. I unwrap my eyes and ponder around, I can easily discern the differences back then and now.

15 years ago when he left home for the war in Haiti, he made a promise saying that he was going to return back for me and that we were going to live happily after. Officials explained that he was bombed during the war but I didn't believe them because his dead body had not yet been recognized. People suggested me to move on through my life, rejoice a second marriage, raise children's, have fun and leave behind my John.
But how could they imagine that I would be able leave behind my Dear John. He had made a promise that he would return back and we shall live a happy life and if I don't bestow to his promise during this difficult times, I would be that dark spot in the name of our true love.

Time seemed to move on, it never waited; neither for me nor for John. But I am still waiting for his return as his promise blesses me a novel hope every single day. He made a promise that he was going to return back for me and deep down, I too had a promise that I will keep waiting for him till there's a single breathe inside me. I know he is going to return back home one day and if he doesn't discover me here, he is going to go crazy. I don't mean to be rude to a soldier who is returning back only for me after such a long duration.

So, here I am waiting for my Dear John for 15 lengthy years.

And the day when he returns, I shall go running towards him, slap him hard in his cheeks and say," John, you can't predict how much I am in love with you?"