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One Thousand Letters

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This pencil will soon snap, the sound of graphite scraping against the
paper that I have become most accustomed to must come to end, for it
has already written, written what our lives' told it too, its faithful
service greatly appreciated. Every morning as the glow of the morning
sun rises, it formed the letters of the words I have written to you
without complaint. These words were never written without purpose, nor
were they written with resistance to pensive instinct. They told the
story of our hesitant confessions and the careful desire to fully
envelop ourselves in the deepest parts of each other’s lives. These
words traveled a long journey, embracing your indescribable beauty,
twisting through the seemingly endless, tangled maze of our bloody
veins; deeply scared from the battles we always fought side by side,
never leaving to see any infliction of pain. From my heart to the
paper; they created a constant flow of truth, never ceasing, even in
the deafening sound of trial. A tear falls from my face when I find
that I will no longer write of what our lives have given to us. The
radiant, unshallow joy that your piercing eyes brought to my life can
no longer inspire me to write our unique definition of perfection,
everyday as we ran together. As I sit and watch the majesty of the
faithful sunset I can no longer write of how your head rested on mine,
while creating the dreams that would soon become our future. I saw
these dreams in your eyes, dreams that were the arms of love cradling
the pure innocence of childhood. The jail that has been so quickly
created by your absence has morbidly crippled my ability to continue
this story of laughter and constant longing for the presence of
each other’s heart. I long to reach out and touch your face, my hand
abruptly greeted by your ghostly gray shadow in the thick, screaming
midnight air. The acceptance of the reality of what was taken from us
would be a promise broken to you, and nothing should or will justify
the thievery that has taken place, I promised you that I would bring
you home to a life of respect and abundant joy, living each day to the
potential love holds; this now a promise broken, taken away as quickly
as a grain of sand that has been washed away into a roaring ocean;
violently torn apart by the waves of unceasing opposition. Because I
have to say goodbye forever, I can no longer write as I did before you
left this earth and my life, this my new, reoccurring horrid nightmare.
I write now with the amazing aspiration of your memory by my side and
in my heart, your life now pouring out through my veins and onto the
paper, this, my last letter of one thousand, armed with irreplaceable
memories created in your fight to the end, even the bonds of death cannot tear us apart.





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