They are the only thing that scares me. I am the only one afraid of them. Twelve unopened letters with secrets sealed inside and my name as the recipient. Twelve that I should have opened, but they sit here. Twelve meaningless apologies that came too late. For one year, you tried to reach me, but I need more time than that to mend what you have done.
Their content is secret. The pile keeps growing on top of my desk. They grow in number and urgency as I bite my lip, hold onto my pride, and ignore them with each passing month. But still you keep.
You won’t let me forget you, with each letter I’m reminded of the love we used to share, and how you used to wrap your arms around me. You keep, keep, keep, and I cannot find sleep. No peace.
When will he realize that I cannot keep keeping? That a piece of paper, among so many horrible things, is not enough. There is nothing left for us here in this world. Twelve that came as if to spite me. Twelve that scream at me in the silence. Twelve that just became thirteen.