Sunday, April 12, 2009

A Letter Assumed

I fear the battle lines have been drawn with blood. There is no retreat from this course we have set. Regrets trail down my face, brought upon by my memories of you and of happier times I didn’t cherish as perhaps I should have.

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,

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