She sat as the writing cabinet. Alone at last, she let a burning tear run down her cheek. She turned her fountain pen over and over again, wondering where to start, and what to say… For too long, the silence had settled, punching her in the chest a hundred times a day, leaving her heart bruised.
She was miserable, but held a high head. Not out of pride. She just couldn’t bare the pain of having to say why she felt so sad. Others might have just forgotten about it all… He probably was trying to do just that… She couldn’t.
Taking a long breath, eyes closed, she finally leaned over the paper, and hoped to find the right words.
My friend, my confident, my partner in crime… I will not lose myself in endless monologues. I don’t want to waste your time, or ridicule myself.
The silence is killing me. Each day, I wake up hoping the cruel dearth of words between us will be over. Will it ever, I wonder. I fear that you might be persuading yourself of the uselessness of my presence in your thoughts and in your life… I hope I am wrong, and that you are just busy elsewhere.
I miss you dearly. I miss the little things, all those little things that we shared daily. We’ve had our share of mishappenings, but it is something that happens, when you open yourself to another. I’ve hurt you, you’ve hurt me, but I choose to concentrate on the good times. I remind myself of the moments you were there for me, giving me a strong shoulder to lean on in periods of doubt and trouble. I believe I was present, when you needed me to pull through some worries of your own… I hope you remember that also.
I don’t want explanations…
I just want you back. I’ll brew a hot pot of the darkest coffee, every morning. Hoping you’ll drop by just to share a few minutes before you head to work. At night, I’ll keep a light on so you know that my door is open for you anytime you’d like to catch up on this and that.
I’ll be there.
Thinking of you still, and dearly.
Yours, as always…