Letters To My Love

I dream of you. They are sweet but also a cruel reminder that you’re not really here. I dream of the life we would have had. The children we would have raised. I like to think that if I had been stronger in my youth, we could have weathered any storm that approached our door.

I never thought that I’d want to dive back into memories with hands clasped across a table. Stolen desperate kisses in an embrace that was never long enough that would spiral me into the depths of depression. I can still feel your fingers gently trail down my face in a silent “I love you.” I can still remember how you smell when I would bury my head in your chest.

There are days that I want to dream my life away if reality means that you’re not in it. Some days, I don’t even want to be here anymore.