I apologize in advance to indulge in yet another irksome trifle. It does not mean I am sorry, no. I shall still perturb you with yet another letter. What else am I to do? Where else am I to go? Just because you’re in a state of denial does not at all mean that you’re not my refuge anymore. So, even if you shall en-flame this piece of paper with my pen’s blood scraped and scratched all over it’s surface, the ashes of my words, ablaze, shall still set your Goddamn soul on fire.
Do you remember the dream we dreamt together? I can still close my eyes and find myself gazing at numerous unpainted paintings and untouched tapestries. My heart still dances to those violin strings’ mellifluous tunes and your footsteps. So much said, so much heard from that point onward. We were fearless weren’t we, love? Letting out all the lepers dwelling in the dingy corners of our collective conscience.
Then remember what happened? The clock struck twelve and reality struck you long before it crept behind my ear and whispered those curses. The dream should have went on but dreams don’t work that way. They are a discontinued series of incomplete events with loose ends and loop holes.
I am not afraid of these shackles that cling on to my heart as they waltz around my choking throat. The suffocation reminds me of how vital it was to breathe, to live, to survive. And in that moment I realized, how finite and limited I am. I am the unfortunate bastard who sings songs of freedom while peeping from the dungeon cell you’ve trapped me in. We are free to make our choices but the slaves of the consequences. And I chose you. I still choose you.