Dear,

Dear stranger and indweller of my heart,

I am sorry for not writing to you for such a long time. I am certain you didn't notice but I surely felt the absence of your existence among and underneath my fingertips.

As always, I have so much to say to you but I cannot really find the proper vocabulary to express what resides in me.

I miss you even though I never had any of you.

I long for you even though you never longed for me.

I fear to think what you might have done with the letters I sent you. Have you burned them? Have you tossed them away someplace distant where you will never be able to lay eyes on them again?

Have I become nothing but a memory? A hazy shadow forever stuck in the past...

I promised I would be quiet.

I promised you would never hear from me again.

You cannot say that I didn't try.

But I cannot keep pretending, what is the use of it?

I want you. It's you that I need.

I am lost in agony. In turbulent silence.

My soul is a perpetual abyss, it's dusky in here.

Where are you? How have you been? Are you well?

I wish I could talk to you.

Sometimes I think that in my dying day I will keep wishing for that.

Forgive me for writing such a boisterous letter.

I am really bad at restraining my feelings.

I just missed writing down everything I have in me.

You know, I sometimes fantasize about us meeting somewhere.

About you looking at me,

about me gazing at you,

about us acting like strangers.

Isn't that all we are, after all?

Isn't that all we will ever be?

I always imagine you walking away from me.

Isn't that what you would do?

Sometimes I do think of us talking but it's very unrealistic even for a fantasy.

I am sorry for everything.

But you have invaded my soul.

Sometimes I wish you could ravish me

and if you did, this mortal coil

would become a remnant,

a residue,

stripped off all that is earthly

and left with all that is you.

My dear, darling stranger.

Flower of my heart,

my haunting.

If you ever touched me, I would break.

I would scatter all over your hands,

become light as a feather

in hope of you holding me

and engulfing me

with your graceful fingers.

If I were a feather,

I would land on your chest

and rest upon it

like delicate wind,

like a sigh.

A sigh of hunger,

yearning,

warmth

and love.

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