Love letter # 553

Over time, small departures accrue. Mundane separations feeling somehow important. Leaving little dents in me. Rents in the fabric of self-reliance. As you have now done, without even realising.

Not your fault, nor your problem. My softly spoken sorrow. My unmeasured distance from the memory of touch.

Our polite farewell feels like tearing because it amplifies the space. Years. Since. Ahead. Without.  

You were in my life for a single summer. All told, we spent no more than an hour or so together – but yours was the loveliest light I saw this season. So what if it shone as a matter of course, as duty or transaction. I bathed in it anyway – because it was a break from this: the calm, cool, cold. The quiet that opens the door.

People say they care…but they don’t. Not truly. Like you never did. But that’s okay. Everyone has their life, their reasons. As I do.

So, yeah, it’s true…I will smooth out this indentation. Return to the default setting. Yet, before this is erased, let me thank you. In your brief company, if only by alchemical proxy, I felt the warmth, and it surrounded me, and I knew.

It did not have to be real, or last forever, because there was a moment, less than the brush of a hand, that held me in its arms. That said yes.