Dear...,
I miss you, my love.
I miss looking at my bone white hand to find the red string tied to my little finger. The string is no longer the vibrant red. The string no longer leads me to you.
My love, my joy...I miss your arms. I miss how accepting you were to me of all things. But how is it that you could just leave me. You forced me, you left me no choice...why?
Why did I have to find you like that?
Candlelight soft and the room an eerily peaceful quiet. The red water rippling every now and then as a droplet would fall from your face. Your lifeless, cold face.
Oh my dear, who will hold me like you did? Who will shower me in kisses and take me as I am?
Ah but that was the problem, wasn't it?
Someone as old as myself should not be given someone to love and hold so dearly.
I should not have taken thee.
Forever yours,
Death
DU LIEST GERADE
Dear ____,
Aktuelle LiteraturThese are letters written by the unknown and written for the unknown. Short and sweet. Deep and thought-provoking.
