From: "Will" <rear_silhouette@dreamcanon.com>
Subject: (none)
To: "Sara" <flaxen_flame@dreamcanon.com>
Dear Sara,
Two months it has been. I don't know if I can make it any longer. A few days ago I would call it a hell, that it could NOT get any worse. But I was wrong everyday. It's getting harder and harder here without you. Knowing I would wake up for a new day that meant for nothing. Another day without you by my side.
Two months it has been. I still miss you. Maybe even more as nights replace days, and days replace nights. The only right thing I could do is when I was lying on my bed after finishing one more big heavy vexatious day, contemplating about you and your scent, your touch, your smile, and all about you. It had felt satisfyingly great and excruciatingly agonizing at the same time as I realized that that wouldn't come true. It was not real. You were not real. I kept getting snapped back into the reality where you are not around.
Maybe I have been obsessed by you. I don't know and care if it's a bad thing or not. You have made my life colourful, you have painted me on a canvas with an unusual skill of an artist. You've loved me with tenderness and brushed me with gentleness. But you had to go to away to fulfill your dream, leaving your masterpiece dwelled in a shadowy insecurity. Don't you know you've discarded the persons who love you? Don't you realize that? Don't you miss them?
Today was a very bad day for me. Much more awful than the other-already-awful days. And I had no you to tell me to hang on. I was alone.
Maybe in time we'll meet again? If that, then time must equal forever. But I will not be giving up on you. As much as it hurts, I will always be waiting for you to come home. You know that I love you, and I know that you do. Each day shall disappear and a new day shall come. I will go along it and end it just to see you standing on my doorstep. Waiting is not as bad as the way it has been.
Two months it has only been. I'm waiting for you to come back, because when you do, I will make the time stand still. And forever will be all in one piece of moment. Ours.
Yours,
Will Cleafant
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment