Dear Nobody™,

My dearest,

I am a cloud of spring, and yet my rains do not cease. Tell me, why is it so? Perhaps it is because thou still lingerest within the chambers of my mind. My heart aches so tenderly, so foolishly. Ah, my poor fragile heart-why dost thou wound thyself so? Nay, speak not sweet words unto me. Speak them not. She once did, and I have not forgotten.

I miss thee. Truly, deeply. Thou must know this: it is not for the days gone by that my soul grieves, nor for what might have been. It is only thee whom I miss. Only thee. Yet thou art gone now.

Art thou happy? I believe thou art. I have seen it with mine own eyes. Then be happy, I pray thee. For the love I still bear thee, be happy. Our paths shall never cross again-never. I upon one edge of the world, and thou upon the other. Ours were worlds apart from the very beginning, and yet, stubborn hearts that we were, we insisted upon loving one another. And so, it did not endure. Aye, it did not-and see now how sorrowfully it ended.

I miss thy voice. Dost thou remember? I loved thy voice so dearly. Thy hands, too. Yet more than all else, I long for the touch of thy wounded hands. Ah, would that thou hadst allowed me to kiss thy wounds, and thou, in turn, to kiss mine. Dost thou remember?

My heart pains me still. It aches beyond measure. It hath broken in a manner no careful hand may mend. And still-still, I remember thee. Aye, even now, I remember thee.

Yours, though from afar