Saturday, January 24, 2015

Dear Laylah

Dear Laylah,

It’s me, Bear. Your fiancé. At least, I used to be. We don’t really talk nowadays, do we?

I thought it might be a good idea to ask you how you are, how life is, but that’d be pointless. I mean, I didn’t go far away. I still pass you as you walk down the street every day. I can still smell the perfume in your hair as I follow you for a short distance when you go to work.

I know you can feel it too. And I miss you so much. Please, acknowledge my existence.

We used to be happy together. It all ended so soon. We could have had so many more happy memories together. So why won’t you speak to me? I’m here. I’m watching over you. I can protect you. I can follow you as you sit there in the corner of your living room, silently sipping your coffee, staring into the distance. I can follow you as you take your bath, soaking for hours on end with a blank expression, your head filled with darkness.

I can follow you as you make your way down that route, to the place where it all ended. I can keep watch as you kneel down beside the tree, lay down a single flower, and shed silent tears. I can hear all your words. I know you miss me. I miss you too.

So please,

                listen to me.

                                               I am here.



I take out and envelope and fold the paper into it neatly. I seal it, go down the stairs and put it into my mailbox. As I lay in the bathtub, I start wondering if I’m going crazy. How nice a fantasy I’ve carved for myself. But he didn’t write that letter. It was all make-believe. He’s gone, he’s not following me. And I’ll never see him again.

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