Inspired by The Last letter from your lover by Jojo Moyes. It got me into the mood for love letters...
I've heard your calls. I've heard you sing to me. I've heard you begging me to put you down on paper. It's not that I haven't been listening. It's not that I haven't longed for you every minute of everyday. I was absolutely desolate without you close to me. You know better than anyone that I can't breathe when you are gone. God knows how I managed all this time with the shallowest of breaths. All I've been doing is distracting my self from missing you.
When I take you into my heart, when I embrace you with all I have, I feel more than I'm capable of taking in. Maybe I've loved this feeling of being an empty glass. I reveled in being empty of you and most especially empty of those feelings. I've tried to appease you with half-hearted scribblings, but they've offered me little comfort and only served to plague me with my failings. I just get so tired of bleeding. I get so tired of plunging my sharpest pen into the depths of my heart because you won't settle for any less. I have to carve my way deep into the marrow of my bones. I have to soak pages in tears and blood. Most times I'm not strong enough. They say feeling too much is how you know you're alive, but sometimes, just sometimes I can't take the battering life throws at me. Sometimes being comfortably numb is all I can handle.
That's the honest truth. You've called. You've sang. You've caressed my arms up and down trying to get my attention. I pretended to be too busy. I pretended to be distracted. All I've been was afraid of the feelings you would inevitably awaken in me. I was afraid you'd make me feel too alive, too open, and I end up feeling the exquisite pain you love to exploit.
Dear Words, he smiled at me. You know the one with sorrowful eyes brimming with all the gentleness in the world like cinnamon and nutmeg stirred into the sweetest caramel latte. It was worse than all the terrible things even you do to me. I was completely unraveled, stripped bare of my indifference. Haven't I told you over and over that I don't miss him anymore? Haven't I promised you I wouldn't cry anymore? He smiled at me and I wanted his embrace more than yours. Maybe I love him even more than I love the words. I can't believe I love him more than you, but I truly do. Because in that moment, I wanted it all back. I wanted his Good Mornings, His good nights, and all the things in between. More than anything in the world, I wanted his I love you's if only for a little while.