The Ramblings of a Inconsequential Girl (My Poetry Collection)

Dear Sincerely (Letter Addressed To)

Dear Sincerely,

I write this letter with a cement like heaviness inside of my heart, dating it the sixth of November. I fear I have grave news to inform you pertaining to our parting. How does someone word emotions to depict exactly what they are trying to say? Are there enough words in the English language? Are they significant enough? Regardless, the only words offered are the only I have to use.

I counted the stars last night, or at least I attempted to in my frantic need to find you. Only you weren't there like you promised you would be. The stars were once a wondrous beauty that I adored. Now thanks to you I can not even glimpse a star without grief biting into my swollen heart. They have evolved into a thing of wretchedness my eyes cower from. They are no longer gleaming jewels that fill the sky silently, but are constant reminders that mock the lonely. Why did you choose me to destroy?

Yesterday I took a stroll. It was a beautiful day; the sun hung aimlessly in the bleached sky. I lye atop the hill where you first poisoned me with your taste, gazing at the clouds as they crawled above me. Do you remember what you said to me then? Because I do. You turned to me with your bewitching eyes and whispered in your captive voice a promise of love. A promise of eternity. Now, as I reminisce with my weary mind, I can recall the smell of deceit that perfumed your breath. How could I have not smelt it then?

Sincerely, are you contempt with what you have done to me? Are you proud? Is that the sound of your arrogant laughter I hear echoing inside of my head? Is that the sensation of your velvety hand cupping my face? Are you the wind that spills forth from my open bedroom window, planting a fleeting and teasing kiss upon my starved lips? Is that your silhouette shadowing the corner of my room, watching as I cry out for you from the bottom of my soul? Or is it all a trick of my mind? Your power has made me powerless, Sincerely. Was that your intention?

A love disaster, a suicide risk, I am none other. I have been collecting my tears in a jar upon my shelf for you. My heart accompanies it, stringing from the wall. I heard a knocking at the door last night. I was sure that you had returned to me. I ran to the door, swinging it open with as much force as I was capable. Only it wasn't you. There was no one there.

Does death really end all pain? It is truly the end of our existence?

Days are never ending. Nights are even more infinite. Oxygen is stifling.

I visited your gravestone yesterday. The grass was as dead as you, life no longer possessing the shell. It seemed to rain down on me, but the sun shone brightly above. Are you cold down there all alone? Is the constant dark unsettling?

I pressed my ear against the dirt, straining to hear movement from you. But as quiet as you are, there was no melody for me to sing along to. Forgiveness in what I plan to do to myself is something I have grown cold to. Blood no more having importance. Darkness is my new friend. He promises to bring me to you. I must now follow.

Sincerely, Dear.

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By the way, this isn't a letter addressed to myself. Thought I would make that clear :) I just got bored...