One Last Letter To My Lover

By

Dearest,

Spring is finally upon us. I welcome with open arms the first temperate morning after a long, grueling winter. The full moon arrived last night and it reminded me of you. 

My God, how I miss you. 

What a beautiful heartache a full moon is! Despite its beauty and luminescence, it is still over 200 thousand miles away. And even when we are deemed “worthy” by Mother Earth, its presence is fleeting. There are some days – most days, now – when that is true of you, too.

As you sit less than 10 feet away, taken by your own existence; your own joys and burdens; giving and sharing nothing, I, too, want to be taken by all that you are. All the while mourning a love lost, an absence that only I seem to be affected by. That, my darling, is the difference between us two. How could I ever share – speak of the sorrow that shadows my every thought – the way my heart breaks and mends, and breaks and mends in the most agonizing loop each day? How dare I express my dismay at your genuine attempts to dismantle our metaphorical clock? Vigorously spinning its hands counterclockwise as if to return us to a state of bliss so far removed from our very essence that I fear I am starting to forget.

I suppose I could never forget though.

The way our lips first touched as music and laughter blared around us, and the way none of it mattered at all. The way your eyes burned holes in my carefully constructed armor. The way my heart bloomed for you, and yours for me. The way life handed me this card – compelling me to trust it – and filled me with every flower in every garden. Oh, how my pores spewed the most heavenly perfumes!

Forgive me, my soul, if my words weigh as heavily as a sinking ship. For the moment my eyes met with yours, I’ve only ever wanted [needed] to speak with sincerity.

My only wish – I must wrap this up, you see – is that in some distant, alternate universe, you are still wholly consumed. My sole wish is that the brown in your eyes still reveals a vivid picture of a love so rare; a love we feel so lucky to have found. I do not know that we will ever get back what we’ve lost; I do not know that we’ve lost it at all. Still, I long for you, my beating heart, my home.

Until we meet again…