To whom this may concern,
Telling me about your aunt and how she has problems at home.
Not even a hello.
You'd just burst into tears.
Calling me crazy.
Saying fear doesn't reside in my heart.
Nothing to lose.
We spoke about the scars on my arms.
We spoke about how her mom has a good heart.
And she called me just before sunrise; her requisition was how come your faith is so strong?
And about where have I found God.
Telling me about the first time she lost a family member and how she just couldn't sleep.
Insomnia became normal, late nights and warm words were shared.
The two of us felt like we were alone in this world.
Telling me everything seemingly unimportant to her.
She never knew every pause and thought was crucial to my existence, only because we were deaf to the small talk.
We hated speaking of "hey babe, what are you doing tonight?"
Always fighting about controversial topics. And she was always right.
We were vulnerable. We were in love.
I love witnessing vulnerability.
There's just something so beautiful about being needy.
Like the smell of fresh mountain dew, you can tell how the trees needed the rain.
The trees don't say much, but you could just feel their yearning.
The scent of happiness reeked in the forest and the fallen leaves were green.
I mean there must be life after death.
This women I'm talking about could be you, reading this thinking "what is this guy on about...?"
Trying to wrap your head around my thought process, something you couldn't fathom. Something beyond us. Somehow you impacted my life and for that I'll be eternally grateful.
I'm talking about you; and my mom; and my granny.
'The lady of light', that's what her name means.
Even the girl at work, we're so chilled.
Mostly conversing about life; love; relationships; heart break.
And how we're not meant to marry our soul mates.
And why do we latch onto the impossible. Trying to grow crops in the dessert.
I think her name is Michelle. She's so smart, I am intrigued by her mind:
"It's always the ones with the most cynical perspective on love and life who are the hopeless romantics"
And those were her words.
This letter is for the girl from Kauai. She knows how I like my bread, only Italian.
This letter is for you. That girl traveling the world.
We swapped hearts and I ended up giving her mine, so selfless of me. So selfish of you.
So currently my heart could be in France.
This letter is for you. Remember the picture I drew, I even framed it. I wrote you a love letter, sometimes I get too deep but, you were always imploring me to be better.
She was busy invoking my aura. She was keeping me sharp.
Taking a lot. Taking life. Taking time.
Yes she was demanding, but at the same time she was so pure.
At this very moment you're giving life to my every word in this piece.
You have taken a piece of me that cannot be replaced. And I'm okay with that...
Her charisma was deafening. I hated it.
I hate you for giving up on us.
I hate that my hate stopped after those two lines I wrote.
Three seconds later, and all my feelings have changed; feeling somewhat bipolar.
When words fail to express, we bask in amazing silence.
The absolute bliss of nothingness.
That feeling of contentment was crazy.
Whatever I say in this letter would be an understatement to what we shared.
Beautiful soul child, you are captivating in all your forms.
Somehow I still have this idiotic glimmer of hope that we'd end up together.
That hope left a long while ago though.
When we had a choice, and the choosing I couldn't do on my own.
I have found happiness.
And I have found watered down versions of love.
So I know we both will find love and happiness in this life.
But solacement still yearns somewhere hidden in my heart.
I've decided on this splendid night to write about you & me.
More you than me.
More me than you.
More love.
Oh, beautiful soul child.
But alas, I'll keep this hope forever.
Someday.
Maybe.
And that's good enough for me.
I am, wherever you are mylove.
My only love.
My only.
My... oh my, oh my, look where we've ended up.
February 28th 2015;
Saturday around 2am.
