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It was cold that day I wrote that letter to you.
I didn’t notice,
All I could feel was the heat of affection, anticipation, and excitement.
I was sure that you would feel all these emotions
When you unsealed the envelope
When you got my letter
When it arrived to you
I had hoped, so hoped, that our connection
…Was just that strong.
That you would write back with words that left traces of unbound love with each word.
I waited, giving you the time of space that you needed
For this feeling, this blossom to grow
I sat by and waited, frozen in position,
No matter how hard people told me to wake up,
To get up,
To let go.
I watched the rain dance down the window and I waited.
I sat by and held on… to what?
I’ll never know.
You never even gave me a string to attach.
It was all my doing, I realize this now.
I thought the rain was beautiful,
Symbolized how nourishing your love was.
But then I realized that the rain was my own tears,
Falling down the window into which I had transformed
I thought I was numb to everything that didn’t involve you.
But then I realized that I was just numb to all that mattered.
I was cold.
But I put myself first and put the pen in the drawer
I shed warm ashes that left me new, birthed, and brighter than before.
I became the dancer again, the one in control.
Your unwritten words still hauntingly visit me in different forms and voices that never got the chance to take shape.
Yes, I still remember but I don’t reconnect.
I see the words that I wrote, the memory of how my fingers ached after creating so much
Still makes me wonder.
But the words no longer burn and my eyes don’t light up.
I moved on, with new words,
Ones that never belonged to you because you were too stupid to understand them
I see you still, in figure, in mind, in person
But it means nothing to me.
I’ve made new words with this pen on this letter written for you,
But addressed to the burning flame.
There’s no point in wasting my time, you wouldn’t understand it