Lost Love Letter

Dear stranger,

It was this month many moons ago, that I first heard your voice, and from there met you without any choice. Through trauma and pure insanity my heart went and fell, and, against my better judgment, soul beat wisdom as well.  You were not impressed, in fact quite appalled, that my heart was so weak as to go and fall. You denied having anything to do with creating my desire and left me there alone to cry, without a single answer to my all my ‘why’s’. We parted ways without a scene; I respected you as a king to my queen. I took on your truth as mine; it was all I could do at the time. There was no romance on my mind, which you believed I was out to find. In fact, my mind was against such an idea, the power of my emotions created naught but fear. You jumped to the assumption that I had lost the plot, when, in fact, I had not. I was all too aware of the potential damage that would need repair, if I acted on the gestures you made in a state of “unawares”. You declared yourself a guiltless man, but I knew you weren’t so clean, still, I didn’t tell your girlfriend of your deeds, no, I didn’t cause a scene. I walked away with an expensive gift in hand, an expensive gift from a ‘guiltless’ man. I walked away with a soul in pain, whilst nonsensical memories battered my brain. I left in turmoil between my knowing and my being, cut up with incomprehension and inexplicable apprehension over what I was leaving.

It wasn’t easy you know; I didn’t know what to do, or where to go. I had never felt such true belonging; I had never known such longing. I’d never had such conflict in my being, or the crazy visions I was seeing. I nearly jumped out of a window to end the depression of being so low. Yet, as I was about to go an angel told me: “no”. I couldn’t understand why, when all I did each day was cry. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling; for months they rained, echoing my soul’s outpouring. I couldn’t be ‘normal’ in anyone’s company and broke down as I released through poetry. Months of torture for no reason whatsoever, I wanted to die and be gone forever. I wanted to end the daily pain of my heart contracting again and again. The angel said: “No, please don’t go.” So I stayed, I closed the window and cried alone in pain.

Now I sit with a mug of tea and wonder: do you ever think of me? Would you remember this October anniversary, or is this just more evidence to support your view of my insanity? I wonder, yes, I still wonder lots of things; after all, this is a fascinating Universe that’s pulling our strings… I still don’t believe you were ‘guiltless’, I can’t hold that as true, as everything has changed from what I knew, and I don’t believe I created this on my own, without you. I miss my simple, contented past, the childlike place, now but a memory cast. I still wish I had an apology from you, and a least some explanation, for all the questions I gave you when I left the station, when all you did was deny and create more frustrations to add to all the other manipulations.

Am I ok now the years have flown? Yes, I think I have grown. But I still think of you every time I see your birth year, which is everywhere; and when an eagle soars above me, which seems to be all too frequently. When your country plays soccer or an aeroplane flies over. When the radio is turned on and they play a song. When I see Coca Cola in the press and they declare: ‘Open Happiness’. I wonder, do you ever think of me, even in the capacity of your declaring my insanity? Do you ever wonder if I “got better”, after all you “disagreed with” in my letter? Do you ever read a poet’s poetry and wonder if it’s the ‘insane’ me writing under another identity? After all, a flower by any other name would smell the same, as we are told by poets of old. Did colours change their essence for you, or is blue still just blue, and not the beauty of the sky or the ocean when the tide is high? Did songs change their depth, did you find liquid love in their lyrics, or are they still just hits, random words, nothing too mystic? Do you just see bright stars, or do you hear and feel the light of Mars? Did I touch your heart, did you keep any memory at all, or was it really just me who hit the concrete in a nasty fall?

Have you realised yet that I let you get away with murder? That my life as I knew it went no further? That all it would’ve taken was one little apology to set my tortured soul free? Instead, my mind and soul remain incongruent and I know it must have been real love, the genuine deal, because I still want to forgive you despite all I feel. And when I’m alone with only my thoughts and assumptions (even if it is a thought oozing vain gumption), there’s another thing I ask myself: Have you forgiven yourself? It’s insane really, but if my dreams do come true and one day you step up to apologise for all your dismissive lies, please tread carefully as I have so much going on inside. I still remain unloved… soft sigh… as delicate as a butterfly.

In hope, in wonder, in question, incomprehension…

Letter writer