I remember your smile, small and secret and on occasion unguarded. Smiles are a rare thing in my here and now, dear one, but the touch of your lips upon mine in the night’s dreamings hold me fast to a hope that happiness was indeed real once, if only for a moment, unrecognized as it was.
I wait for your letters. They are few and far between. Dread, hope, anguish, and more all arrive with your letters and my thoughts upon them. You are a torturous woman, cruel in your attempts to be kind and heartless in your compassion. I would crush you and love you at once were I not sane enough to know the difference, for you drive e to each endYou are a damn arrogant woman to presume to know my thoughts and wondrous just the same because, sometimes, you do. I fear for my secrets much as I relish their relinquishment into light. I do believe my eyes have not adjusted yet.
Take your pretty words, your seeing little eyes, your incompetent blushes and leave me be. I have a war to win, which I cannot do while fighting you, while hearing your tears upon the pages you write in the cradle of another man’s arms.
You were but a dream in the night, a mirage upon the sands that scathe me. You will be remembered for what you were: a woman who tasted of promise and potential, but of little sustenance. You could never be enough to satiate my hunger… but I will remember you, nonetheless.
With what Immortality I may,