The Unpublished Letter

It was those warm days in the summer that brings my mind back to you. Those days were the days of my life. Those days are the days we met, fell in love, and made the nostalgic feelings that I have now.

Now that the days have grown short, I look to you for comfort, solace, and safety. Now that I’ve experienced your love and other loves and many embraces and no embraces, I call for a deeper and more sentimental love.

On some of the colder days, it was easy to be told that I’d find someone else who’d treat me right. On the warmest and hottest of days, it was easy to believe I’d never want to wrap my arms around another fair maiden.

The times have moved on and in the grueling darkness where I sit alone, divided from all else, my thoughts are still directed on you. In the tight tuck of the corner of my bedroom where the window is raised and the blinds are lowered, where the fan is still moving and the outer lights are still gleaming, the urge to fight my memories of and feelings for you are futile.

The promises in the past are meaningless today as together we’ve grown to know more than we did. Through all of the pain, we were back to back.

I look across my room at the darkness that encumbers me. My eyes are blinded without light as a human being but I see images: one who sits perpendicular on a bed over another who sobs in his arms. He holds her and looks up into the white ball in the night’s sky whispering ideal and comforting words which are inaudible to me.

What a time that must have been. With the light that seeps through my window, I look down to my hands filled with stories and lost letters. Unpublished letters and articles lay in my hands as artifacts of a time that is distant but before me in a guise.

Could these letters ever mean a truth that I’ve been hiding? Could my words represent a meaning I’ve been describing? The questions will perhaps answer themselves if I were to perk up the courage to shed my former heart and tell you sincerely that “I love you”.