Postscript  to Love

My dearest one,

I  am  awake. The faint blush of dawn tempts the night to linger while I think of you. You said,  you  feel you haven’t stopped loving me because you  still want to come home. I answered, yes, yes, please do, because you left the best thing behind: my heart.

The best things in life usually go on forever. I keep no record of wrongs, because my love is stronger than the wall of misunderstanding we built. So, please try to come home. It’s never too late to come home, but you have to be willing and strong to do that. Life is short and love is long. Love perseveres, trusts, and hopes for another day of loving. There’s really no need to expect anything.

You  have not come home. Each day and night my heart writes countless letters, all of them unsent. For, how can I essay this fervent wanting and needing when every word that I write leaves me   and leads itself to your door yearning to be where you are? But I have no regrets, because in my silence I can  hear your dear voice , the song hidden in my thoughts. Through the darkness left by your absence, I can see clearly the light in your eyes. I feel special touched by your light. How, then, can I go blind, deaf and dumb when I have kept you in my heart and soul?

The memory of you is the remembrance of stars in dark nights. Your name vibrates in my whole being. How can I ever forget you?

I’ll be the last leaf to leave the bough to welcome you home, for it’s you that I rather want to live with. You don’t have to say you love me, because you gave me much more than what I could ever have wanted, and that is, the joy and privilege to love you. My love is good for two.

Come home, says my heart. My love is ever forgiving. May my offer be not too small to receive because it is a precious gift I wrapped with all my love.

P.S.

I love you.                                    ###