Love letter # 555

Would it be wrong of me to say that I miss you; even though it was me who pulled the trigger?

I’m not about to say can we please start again; we both know that would be pointless. But even if it is better this way, it still hurts. There is no victory here, no triumphal consolation, simply the vague hope that I got it right.

Have you ever noticed how the right thing is so often so awful?

Until my heart is full again the nights will be empty. The mornings quiet. The unused section of the bed – cold. Sand on the hearth; where once the fire burned. And the things you left behind, little trinkets of you, gathering dust, turning into memory.

Is it not true that the good walks out the door with the bad?

Perhaps we are the wiser for this – time alone will show us that – but the one thing I do know is that I would be a fool to forget what it was to love you and to see that beautiful light in your eyes.

I think of that, my angel – and I am all at sea. Melted. And I could almost pick up the phone.

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