Love Letters To A Broken Heart ~ Frerard

Five years after the breakup, when Jamia was out of town, I finally brought myself to prise open the little drawer resting at the side of my bed. It wasn't a heavy drawer, despite the many layers of dust and silver cobwebs, or even the hundreds of ancient letters, each written intricately by the man who haunts my dreams. It's usually ghosts that do the haunting, but he's alive. Somewhere out there, he's living. Where are you now? Gone, far away. I'm left only with the ghost of you.