Love Letter
Anonymous To my Dearest, I hope this letter catches you in good health, as I can’t bear for you to be sick. For me, it is raining here: merely a short summer shower. On days like this, the pain of your absence flares up once more, and I am reduced to nothing but a creature that loves you. Do you remember the day when it was raining as it is now? When all was still except for my heart, when we made secret promises underneath a darkening sky? The spring air was full of tension, swelling until it burst, until I found your hands threaded through my hair and my lips on yours. Oh, how I long to see you again, to kiss you again with the same quiet passion. The world grows wider and the nights colder without you lying by my side. I feel your absence every moment we spend apart. My world grows grey without you in it. You are every good thing, you are butterflies and birdsong, you are the first warm day after a long winter, you are the taste of a peach at its ripest—sweeter than honey and softer than summer. You are full moons and eclipses: wild and wonderful. You are the world to me. I wish to hold you again and touch you with these calloused hands. Every so often, I find myself wishing for times when we were young girls, sneaking under the cover of darkness into the woods, where we would share kisses in secret. You would tell me stories, remember? Stories about our futures, running away for love, living in such a way that we wouldn’t need the night to hold hands. We were ever so careful, and yet here we are—a river between us. You once told me you loved the night, that you loved the creatures frolicking beneath the moon. We were such creatures, once. I wouldn’t change a single thing. Oceans away, yet you are still here, deep within my soul. You have been here long before we met, and you will always be here even if we are never to meet again. I beg you to fill the cavity inside of me. You are my heart and my soul. You are my love and my world. Come home, Dearest. |