Love letter # 124

It would be much easier if I didn’t – but I do. For despite all my trying, all my regularly updated vows, I still sit in the place where we once lingered, vainly reaching across time, trying not to breath too loudly; lest the remnants be obscured.

In every room, the archaeological record, barely buried – the way you danced over there, how you softly sighed in here. In one envelope – a picture of you in that dress and the only two love letters you ever wrote. And that childlike painting tacked to the wall in my secret corner of you.

All of which brings me to this … you once said goodbye; and so now the wheel has turned and it has come time for me to break these things.

Time for me to say: it’s not you.

There is an old saying; it goes something like this: at the end of the summer remember that in a very short time it will be spring once more.

Tonight, I have walked amongst these dry old leaves and seen at last the chance of flowers. Thank you.

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