Letter from a Damp Afternoon

Beloved,

When you read this letter, perhaps it will be evening…
The sky overcast, you'll be sitting by the window,
your favorite cup in hand, your mind a little adrift.

You know, sometimes I think that with just a little—
a touch of fever, a whisper of weariness—I might leave it all behind.
To slip away from this world,
I wouldn't need much more than that.

That day when I took my leave,
you placed your hand on my head—
that moment was so tender, so silent,
as if time itself had paused at your touch.

I still haven't forgotten that caress.
My insides were growing hollow then—
and you were the only one I wanted beside me.
You were there...
in a small embrace, in a gentle breath.

Love—such an ordinary word, isn't it?
No declarations, no contracts—
only feeling.
In that feeling, you know,
I had fallen in love with you,
unknowingly. Silently.

Do you still think of me?
Just a little?
Perhaps you don't...
Yet I feel that in some of your breaths I still linger.

These six months I haven't called,
yet the moment I switched on my phone
the first call went straight to yours.
You didn't answer.
Still, I felt no resentment—
because I know
you think as I do—
quietly, without words.

You once said,
'People like you can't be found in person,
they live in letters, in outboxes, they stay in memory.'
You weren't wrong.
I was, I am, I will be—folded away in your old days.

In these six months our relationship may have changed,
yet I believe
you still wait—
for some nameless letter,
some wordless voice,
some unspoken love.

I pray—
that whoever you love
may hold you close,
stay beside you in your dreams,
as I wanted to stay—
with all my love.

Yours,
That person you haven't forgotten (this I believe)