The Note. (Retort)

Dear love,

My heart skipped beats while I read your letter. I thought you moved on effortlessly, hope you find this vignetter. I am in pain like I’m being sliced with swords, so much of it that I fail to express in words.

If ever pain could be named by another
I would call it your name.
To wish I never met you is something
But to wish I was never born is another.
To say you killed me would sound kinder
You felt no mercy to do that either.
Shaken to let in memories of any kind
But what will I do with my empty mind?  

I am trying to take good care for myself, keeping away from everything that reminds me of you, your photos on my phone, I scroll past. I don’t know when I will be able to look at the one I photoshopped with us. I also find myself calling your name when I talk to myself. I don’t think there would be a getting over. I know there is nothing that cannot be forgiven, those words that you used were at the heat of the moment. Many times, I wanted to ask how you are doing, but then I hesitate. And then I thought, I could ask you to be my friend, at least, but I was scared if you would scoff at me. Then I leave that idea, I simply won’t be able to do that ever again, deliberately. I have to find a way of strength, even by doing stupid things. Then I think in these lines, whatever happened must be for the good means, I feel less guilty that I am not sinning. My head’s spinning as I write these and I am not winning. 

In short, I am a mess, not even ‘in a mess’. I have started to understand the real meaning of ‘sabr’, it is the hardest one can do. Maybe this is the part of getting older, and I wish I’d end up soon in ‘kabr’.

One can never unlove anyone, one has truly loved, so you know.

I hope and pray you are taking care of yourself. Work for realistic goals, in life and love hefty, so you keep your loved ones happy. And it’s sad there’ll be no getting back as you see.  

Without wax,
yours.

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