Dear friend,
You have given to me more than I asked you to,
Yet there's a hole being dug in my skin
Right above my heart.
I reminisce about a time not long ago
When we used to hold hands
And those were our words.
I shudder at the thought of losing it,
But then I realize the sad truth -
I already have.
Those three words that are sacred to me, the ones you used
to whisper in the dark so no one could hear you, the ones
that managed to escape your heart despite your biggest fear
of being exposed -
They are the cure for my wound. Our wound.
You hold the key to the secret room in my heart,
And no one has opened it ever since.
Therefore, truth is being left unsaid,
And lies are being told to cover up those crazy thoughts
Of the love I used to have.
We used to have.
And again I fall,
Covered in my own blood,
Trying to climb out of this chasm of loneliness.
But sadness is all that surrounds me.
The silence you hear was caused by my tragic fall,
A fall from a cliff of depression.
The gasp I released from my mouth
Was to be heard only by you,
For you can translate a single sound that comes out of me to
a whole story.
Or rather used to.
My story will be left incomplete.
Unless you come along and rescue me from myself.
Will you?
Understand whatever you want from this 'letter'... I tried
to put in words the thoughts in my head, but that's all I
could do. Though I have much more to say. 