Love letter # 108
Memory has its own geography. These streets we stumbled through, that place we used to meet, the corner where your eyes lit up. And on your doorstep; your tears, my determination.
I’m sure I had a reason – but even this familiar grid won’t bring it to mind. It must have been important though; to make me walk away from you.
It should be obvious now that I’m kicking myself. Not that I expect you to take me back – it’s far too late for that. I got what wanted – whatever it was – and it turned out to be nothing.
I am sorry I made you pay for my vanity. I took your love and made a prison out of it and after I escaped I realised that I was gaoler.
Whenever I find myself in the old neighbourhood of us I imagine the still loving ghosts of you and me. It may please you to know that they still dance in public. I hear their light footsteps, watch their shadows flitting … and I still love you.
A folly for which, once again, I offer humble apology.
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