Dear Lance Grey,
I’ve been trying to find the right words. I’ve been spending sleepless nights trying to fathom the constellations, trying to piece out fragments of our tragedy, trying to fit them in like jigsaw puzzles in my mind but I guess my love for you has become a dead language.
They said the person you love is supposed to make you the happiest. But you, dear love, you wrecked me. You held my hands amidst the perilous winds..feet at edge of the mountain, blood pumping through my veins..you held me so tight that I almost lost grip of what was real…until you pushed me off the cliff. You broke me. You broke every bone in ways no doctor can ever diagnose the pain. I can move, no problem. But to move without you, to wake up without your heartbeat close to mine, to have to walk and laugh and dance without you…it stirred my organs, like ropes tangling inside of me, I didn’t know my heart could feel so small, it could implode.
You made me fall so hard, I felt the sting of agony run from neuron to neuron. You left me at chaos. You took away parts of me I thought I didn’t need. But it turns out, a lady needs her dignity. A lady needs her self-esteem. This lady in the blood-stained yellow dress needed a cure. I needed an antidote from your poison.
But how could I? That poison you sank deep in my system..it was the only part of you I could keep. And I just couldn’t live without it.
I could have woken up from this dream that you would one day come back and kiss away all the anguish, but I never stopped playing the perfect scene over and over again..every night since you walked out the door.
I love you. I loved you. I still love you. Even if I convince myself not to every single waking day of my life. It will always be you. I don’t know how to be something you miss. But all I know is I love you.
I love you too much to stop writing you letters.