The night seemed so kind to me now, my love. As if it was telling me that even without you, I could still be whole. You knew from the start how I fell in love with this time of the day, and how I tend to choose solitude over your company. You never once asked, but perhaps you wondered why. You never asked why, and maybe that was the reason why we never last. Tonight and for the rest of the days I have, I could no longer tell you the answer but if you read this, which I was certain you wouldn't, it would shed light why I preferred the familiarity of darkness over the warmth and comfort of your embrace.
Darkness introduced to me the greatest love of my life, and taught me how the things we vowed to never love could possibly become the very thing we could no longer live without. Forgive me if that greatest love was not you. Maybe you could have surpassed it, if you just asked, if you just stayed, or if I did not let go.
When I was young with a carefree soul, and a smile that could warm even the most pessimist heart, I once read a poem. I did not remember what it was, but I could still recall the confusion of trying to understand its implication. From that day on, I vowed to myself that I would never love such a complicated art. That I would write and speak the words exactly as I thought, and not hide it between the lines, nor disguise it with those pretty metaphors. That was the promise I remembered breaking first. Its broken pieces remained embedded in the very fiber of my being, something no one, even you, my love, could remove.
Why did I break that oath to myself? Maybe you would ask. Again, I could not remember the day, but I could reminisce the feeling as if it just happened yesterday. I spoke my thoughts so clearly, without restraints, without hidden connotations, yet I ended up still unheard and still misunderstood. Then darkness came, darker than any nights I had. It knocked on my door like an uninvited visitor I couldn't just ignore. It felt so foreign and heavy; whispering to me the painful truth... the painful reality. It was so suffocating to the point that I clung to the first things I could still see, which happened to be a pen and a crumpled paper.
That time, I met the greatest love of my life. I abandoned my first belief the moment I wrote my first poem, which was full of riddles and metaphors, yet surprisingly offered me the peace I couldn't have from speaking straight. My love deepened when the world became more cruel while poetry never ceased to offer me comfort when I was so certain I would no longer last another day. I was right all along to choose its company over you when my life was falling apart. In poetry I had certainty that it would always be with me. But you, my love, despite how we had planned our future together, how many time you had told me you love me, I knew one day you would be tired from loving me. I knew one day you would leave me. And you did.
Tonight as I admired the mystery of the stars and the beauty of the moon, I made another vow to myself. This time, I hoped I would no longer break it.
"I will only fall in love with a man that feels like poetry amidst the darkness. For I'm certain it will last."
