The sky slowly turns to liquid gold and the gentle wind blows softly. It's trying to lull me.
And I sit quietly on the shore, passive, as the waves kiss my feet, every once in a while.
I clutched them tighter -- the letters I held in my hand. Today I resolved to send them away. And I told myself it has to be done, unlike those other times I put it off and made excuses.
These were letters I wrote for you. The replies to those from yours, that never came. These are words I thought I would say back, if I only heard them.
I lived a dream, one that had you in it. I dreamed awake that you felt the same and had longed to be here, as I have. I dreamed to be loved, as I have. But I guess I wasn't dreaming aloud. It's more of a delusion. And it had to end somehow.
I had kept away from this moment for so long. But life should go on, and seasons begged me to move along. I had been stuck here, far longer than I should. I kept holding on and hoping for the letters, even when I knew for certain that they never would. Hope, indeed, could be a fatal weapon. It stabs the heart of the one who clings to it, much tighter than they should.
I have waited. I would have kept waiting still. But then I remembered the words you said from long before. A year is a long time, a lot could be forgotten. And maybe you have. That's why the letters never came. And I was out of excuses.
The letters are all I have. But then my hand wrote them out, and they were words my heart wished you'd say -- they were never your words, nor feeling you might have felt.
So I am sending them away. To the sea. To drown and take them to vanish. One by one, until the last is gone.
Maybe they won't stop the tears from coming, nor make me unfeel all the sadness. But it's a step. I'm letting go of the pretenses.
It's time I make amends with reality. The letters never came. The words never did. They never will.