the one that broke me,
Usually, letters carrying warm words and warmer intentions start with "I hope this letter finds you well."
I, on the other hand, hope this letter doesn't find you at all. I am simply writing this so the words I have held captive in my being for countless months, can finally breathe.
When we met, you were a wonder that I couldn't help but to fall in love with. Your words were carefully and perfectly strung together, but I was blinded - I couldn't see the rope of lies slowly coiling itself around my body, until I was yours to use, abuse, and throw.
I couldn't escape.
Your absence made me wary, just as depicted in captivating movies and even better novels - I would sit by the window, tears rolling down my cheeks and wonder why I was the one who had to endure such pain.
The physical pain you gave me was nowhere near comparable to the emotional pain - for it had no cure or medicine. You will find, (to your delight, I may add) - that countless chemists now know me as the boy who walks in crying, night after night, complaining of heartache, headache and asks for sleeping pills.
You might be wondering the purpose of a letter like this. I do not wish to expose you and your questionable intentions to the world, nor do I wish to see a room full of people claiming that they have met someone like you.
I wanted to thank you.
Thank you for giving me pain, I will finally know what happiness feels like when I will be over you may be in an year.
Thank you for the tears, I will now know how to wipe them off the faces of others when I will be over you may be in an year.
Thank you for the lack of respect, I will now respect myself so much more when I will be over you may be in an year .
Thank you for momentarily weakening me. I will be now so much stronger, after being freed from you when I will be over you may be in an year .
Your darkness will never disappear,
just like my light will never fade.
Even a shattered mirror still reflects.
(Never again) yours,
The boy who will fix himself
You may wander down paths for numerous lovers but you may find that no heart will make a bed for you in it, like mine did. You may kiss a thousand lips, but the brush of mine, lightly on yours might always be missed.
Go out. Go along. Go and find someone else, like you said you already did. But know this: each time you call for love, it will bring you my name. It will bring you my scent. It will bring you my grace.