A Letter to You

 

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For all the hours that I spent tracing the softness of your skin,
for all of the nights that we were together,
I am writing you this letter, my love.
I know that you will never see this,
because I’ll hide it within the confines of my chest,
locked away like the most precious treasure I might ever own-
never to be heard, spoken or known.
That’s the way it goes when one person becomes your home.

You wouldn’t know this,
but last night, I spent hours trying to sketch you.
I couldn’t quite capture the love within your eyes,
but no drawing could ever replicate the images in my mind.
I could not translate the joy within your smile,
my attempts at recreating art were futile.

I listened to that playlist you had sent me,
thrice, before I finally gave up.
I chanted the lyrics of so many songs,
over and over again in my head,
as if it would be enough to summon you.

It was around that time,
that the sun started peeking through the sky.
I had some sort of uncontrollable flashback-
visions of you smiling,
as the sun poured through your window.
Maybe it’s true,
the sun shines on the wicked too.

“Look into my eyes, baby”,
you had whispered gently, “It’ll be okay”.
Now looking into your eyes just isn’t the same,
when I know that you are not looking back at me.

Do you revisit our memories?
I reminisce often,
letting your thoughts leak out of my mind,
like ink that won’t dry.
Tonight when the sun begins to set,
I shall scream at the ghosts and beg them to end me.

I am my own worst enemy,
no one can save me now.
The voices over my shoulder remind me of my failures.
My friends say, I don’t look the same.
My mind is an ocean, and I am drowning in pain.
The flood of these memories is too much to consume!

GREG RAKOZY PEXELS

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Well written and so sad. I am sure your writing brings some comfort to broken hearts.

  2. vishalbheeroo says:

    The flow of words are so relatable and your writing makes it an intrinsic part of your identity. The beauty lies in its expression and lending a touch of realism.

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