Writing to you in the past tense makes my present ache. I never wrote to you when you were here, as I never thought you would not be. No day ends without reminding me of you, leaving me thinking of writing to you. Dear, I want to express what my heart has held for a long time. I cannot even think of how long it has been. I want to write about feelings, about you and me, but not us now. I wish you could read the pauses. Nobody else can read the silences, but I believe you can. Read them, but don't reply from wherever you are. Just read...
My eyes are still teary. I can see your reflection, you as you were. I do not wish to see the new you, as it might shatter the image I have captured of you. You belong everywhere except here. I am searching for my belongings, for everything that could stop my aching.
My eyes are still teary. I can see your reflection, you as you were. I do not wish to see the new you, as it might shatter the image I have captured of you. You belong everywhere except here. I am searching for my belongings, for everything that could stop my aching.
~A
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