Love letter # 312
It was one of the Bronte sisters: While I loved, and while I was loved, what an existence I enjoyed! What a glorious year I can recall …
That’s how I feel. Every spring is that spring. Every pretty girl is you in that dress – the sun shining through it, your body a magical silhouette. And every lovely song is like the trace of your beautiful sigh. These things never leave me. They are nothing like ghosts.
Until each and every one of my memories is finally and irrevocably exhaled, you still dance around me. And when I think of this, there is no bitterness, no sorrow – just a love as fine as mist – and the light that makes everything shine.
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