In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Audience of One.”
Allow me to be frank for once and end this foolish coy game we play. Permit me to say that I miss you. I miss everything about you, even the highfalutin way you spoke about your taste in everything, especially in women. We have spoken yes, but it has been three years since we have spoken without shallow words. I do not regret revealing my true feelings towards you and I do not blame you for not returning them.
I would be foolish however, to deny that part of me is not remorseful over your loss. Not your physical presence so much as your inner presence. When two people have bared their souls to each other, it is impossible to retract to how they once were. How could I have been expected to turn a blind eye to the heart I now knew existed, that was beating persistently against the cages to which it was confined, within your cold exterior. How could someone like you believe in love after everything that occurred? How could you still believe in her?
I took you on as a project, you were my very own puzzle to be put back together. However, I was gravely mistaken in thinking that the way that I repaired you would leave you healed and ready to enjoy happiness with me. The picture on your puzzle would not be completed without her. Each time I heard you mention your longing for her, I sucked it in and swallowed your poison, leaving you to enjoy a few moments of peace. In the end, poison consumed me, my picture which was incomplete without you incinerated, it was gone from whence it was born, into nothingness.
Years have passed and our friendship tethered, unable to be reborn from its ashes. Occasionally, I catch my mind roaming on you. Associated with it is a feeling of nausea and internal sickness which I am unsure that I will ever overcome.
When all is said and done, I would just like you to know that I love you, because you are the type of person who deserves to be loved.
Possibly forever yours,