My Remains

My Dear,

I am writing to you from one of my out-of-body experiences. These eyes of mine are anything but new, so then why does it feel as if they have been granted new sight? I see the world speeding on its axel as usual, ceasing to stop for no one. Leaves are blown, blades of grass swept away , and the old pair of shoes by the door reek no more. Where have the years gone by? Perhaps, their hiding behind that cupboard door?

The tree tops have specks of gold thanks to the evening sun, the birds in the horizon return to their branches for the night. When will I go home? I think of you constantly. Meaningful thoughts and important breaths are buried by your prevailing image. Where have the years gone? Perhaps, their hiding behind the waterfall I sit beneath in? Even those icy blades piercing through me, go unfelt when I say your name under my breath. I have no way to escape.

As you can see, I write for days and days, page by page, only of thee. I start out writing about colossal things, but right away using my sword, I pour out my heart. Like the purest of liquids, it flows, feelings, thoughts and images of only you. How can this be?

I feel useless when am away from you. I know it should not be, that’s what I repeat to myself. I beg of you, share your well kept secret of how you breathe like love never came to be? The last strand of hair has fallen from my head. I seek sanity from the being that drives me crazy. Kill me.

Your insane lover.