Those pigeons carrying your letters, I have never let them in. I saw them flapping their wings against my windows but I pulled down the shutters and closed the curtains, oblivious to the conditions outside. They were there all night and I found them sprawled on my doorstep the next morning, your letters still held between their beaks. I burned them all down and watched the wind take away their ashes with it.
When I am all by myself, I am sometimes reminded of your bubbling laughter which sounded like the waves breaking against the rocks ashore. I saw the withered roses which were pressed in between the pages of my favorite novel, your name on every one of them and that made me long for you endlessly.
But then I realized it again. Falling for you was like walking on the quagmire, the more I tried to escape, the more I sank into its depths. I’d seen the end the day itself when our eyes had met; two broken hearts which were too shattered to fall in love again and four eyes that were in search of someone who’ll never be with them forever. Ever since I have learned to drive, pain has taken a permanent place on the passenger seat of my car. And I always knew there was nothing but despair, longing and heartbreak at the end of this road.
This is everything that I never said to you when I could. But I promise, every night when I close my eyes, there will always be a prayer on my lips:
May you read it and know it is for you. I hope you know it’s always been just you.