How much easier it would be, how neat and orderly, if I knew of a way not to care. You would be nothing more than another troubled soul. Sorry tale. Victim. Drama queen. Too much bother.
Yet I have loved you, perhaps blinded by the beauty buried in the mess. Despite the darkness, the light has shone, and I have felt it on my skin.
Did I think to save you? Was I the arrogant redeemer? Am I addicted to this now?
We move in spirals, you and I, mostly falling. But every now and then, moments of grace. Through the valley of agony, a river sublime. The one in which we will surely drown.
In the ruthless mirror, I question everything. With my love I have damned you, making plain the awful juxtaposition of song and scream. The distance that resembles touch. Kiss/kill. Care/condemn.
If only I did not feel this way. Perhaps then clarity. Mercy, and the shedding of loads. Space to move forward.
The story says I love you. The myth says meant to be. Pride and weakness urge me to stay. Fear tightens the grip. Ego wants to beat the odds, to silence the doubters. But I know in my heart what comes next. We both do.
Now the breath is held. Here I am poised. Hit send. Suffer. Recover. So simple…but for this tender hook.
FREE LOVE LETTERS 
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