Dear!

I thought of writing to tell you how much I miss you, but I was afraid I might cross a line. Despite that fear, missing you weighed on me even more, so I kept delaying this letter. But, dear, is there a way out? A letter feels like the only way to reach you.

How long must I keep walking away? Writing to you makes me feel lighter. Your absence is too heavy to carry. The tears have dried now, yet the ink remains immortal. I wish I could turn all my longing into a painting and gaze at it for a lifetime. I will bleed through my words until the blood in my arteries ceases to flow.

I wish you could feel the fumbling of my words and the thumping of my heart. Some days, this world feels so small that I think I might crash into you. Most days, though, I am made to believe that no one owes anyone a final meeting. In this absence, there is an ocean of unsaid sentences in which one drowns. For the rest of life, perhaps, one keeps drowning. You are my shore, and these letters are my lighthouse.

I know I may never find you. But the world is built on hope. No matter how hopeless I feel, every morning hope embraces me again. I miss you like someone homeless yearning for home. Dear, I will miss you because I cannot help myself.

~A