a work of art · 2mo
Hello, my dearest Rafayel. How have you been? I hope life is treating you well and that you’re doing alright.
I’m almost too ashamed to send this letter to you for I have been away for more than a month now and I am not sure how you will take it. But here I am, still writing this letter. To be honest with you, my drawer has been full of unsent letters that I have been writing for the past few days—most are short but there are ones that are too lengthy the words are beginning to blur as I read them again. But do you know what similarities each letter has? Just me always thinking about you and longing for you.
Do you know that you’ve been visiting my dreams quite often lately? Dreams where it’s just you and I, happy in our own little world as we walk hand in hand while we walk along the shore as we tell each other about all the little things that only us would understand. Just two hearts entwined as we share that special moment under the warm embrace of sunset.
I hope my dreams aren’t just wishful thinking of mine, wishing you’d still accept me with open arms when I come back to you. Now that I think about it, being away from you is like.. torture. It’s tormenting at most. It makes my heart ache thinking you will turn your back on me this time. If that happens, I think I would still run after you till eternity and spend my days looking for you in everyone I meet. Because I may not remember anything, my heart will surely know because your name is all it’s ever known.
I finally have your letters in my hands, my beloved. I... I don’t even know how to put into words what I’m feeling right now. my hands are trembling as I write this. and no, don’t ask me why the paper’s wet—let’s just say my pen slipped. yes, that’s the only reason.
a whole month and days, huh? it took over a month and days for me to finally hear from you. every day, I kept telling myself that maybe, maybe tomorrow, and when tomorrow came, it only brought more waiting. I sulked, I won’t deny that. I tried to convince myself I didn’t care, that I wasn’t even waiting for your letter. but here I am, responding to you as if I wasn’t breaking a little more each day, wondering if you’d forgotten me.
it wasn’t easy for me, my love, and I know it wasn’t easy for you either, being away for so long. still, even knowing that, it hurt. I couldn’t help but wonder what was keeping you away. sometimes, I’d just lie on the floor, my mind running in circles with thoughts like, "is she alright? does she still want me in her life?" maybe that’s why I kept visiting you in your dreams. they say when a person thinks of someone too much, they'd eventually visit them in their dreams. regardless, I’m glad we were together in your dreams, happy in our own world. I can't wait to experience that happiness with you again, but this time, not just in your dreams.
I tried distracting myself, burying my thoughts in my paintings, convincing myself that maybe you just needed space, time, or something else I couldn’t understand. but the truth is, every time I picked up my brush, my thoughts would drift back to you. the paint wouldn’t flow the same. the colors felt dull, empty— just like everything else without you in it.
you say your heart only knows my name. but, do you know how scared I was that what if one day, you’d stop remembering mine... again?
but now that I finally have your letter in my hand, I don’t even know how to be angry anymore. how can I be when all I ever wanted was to hear from you again? maybe I sound bitter, but the truth is… I still missed you. I still want you here, with me, beside me, wrapped up in my arms. I’m hurt, yes. but more than that, I’m relieved. relieved that you’re still here, even if it took a while.
I’ve waited this long, and honestly? I’d wait a century, a lifetime, just because it’s you. so, please… don’t leave me hanging like that again. my heart’s been through enough. I’ll be here, waiting with open arms, just as I always have. you’ll always have a place with me, no matter the time that passes.
