I dream of you. I dream of you more often than I would like to admit, even to myself. What we had was brief and fleeting, our timing was always wrong, but it still hurt to say goodbye, knowing that I might never see you again. Those first few weeks without you, I barely let myself sleep, knowing I would you and what might have been before my eyes. It was too painful to wake up and know that it wasn’t real. I wondered, and wonder still, if you ever think of me too.
It has been over a year since I last saw you, but I can still remember what it felt like to be in your arms. I tell myself I’m over you, and most days I believe it. I tell myself that time is a great eraser of feelings and memories. To some extent it is true, but there is some part of me, deep inside, that just won’t let go of you.
There are a million things that I wish I had done while I had the chance, but ultimately, they have all come down to this one letter that I know you will never read.
In love alone