To: My Unkind Beloved

My Unkind Beloved,
                when I was done putting hash marks on the walls of my soul, counting my days wasted without you, I wrote this letter to you. A letter to you, to your captured smile in the frame, from the beats of the ancient heart in my chest; I leave it to the wind to deliver my letter. For it to carry is beyond these walls, these roads, these days…just take it beyond all those hesitations and fears that severed your hand from mine.

                The wind knows it all. Don’t you remember? It was it, which that day, a moment before sunset, reached to my ears the melody of your voice, and introduced me to the sensation of love and longing. Now that I’ve mentioned, I have to address it “To the unkind who inflicted me with unrequited love” since I don’t know where you reside.

                It was just any other day as I wandered on a dirt road where at the intersection of your glance and my stride I was hindered as I got shot through my Achilles by Cupid, pinning me in place as I slowly but surely drowned in the love that I bled for you. Maybe I should address it “To that same glance…”
that same glance that held the reflection of my dreams and aspirations, and was the harbinger of the brightest tomorrows; Tomorrows where our dreams would collide and be a flickering light at the end of this dark road we take, travelling towards tomorrow…tomorrow…a tomorrow that is yet to come.

                Never mind, this poorly crafted letter isn’t a proper place for things as such to be mentioned, I’ll end up peeving  your picture in the frame and you will somehow steal your smile begrudgingly if I start rambling about how I miss you.

                You know what? Let me tell you about the party I hosted. Yup, a party… you missed out. It was a few days back that I celebrated the record repetition of these mundane days. It wasn’t much of a party honestly, it was just me and your framed portrait…I set up a table worthy of my guest: candle light, tuberose and few lines of hand written words unspoken.

                I felt embarrassed as a host in front of my guest as I fell short of serving my guest with joy. It has been a while since I’ve run out and I can’t seem to find any at the local store. I hope your table is constantly full and wealthy of Joy. I shouldn’t complain really for this was my fault. It was the penance for striking a bargain with the devil in order to get you, and consequently fell from gods grace. His wrath stole you from me and robbed me of all my joy.

                What can I say? Jovial were the days with you. And I’m lucky that I even have this frozen smile of yours in this frame to share my empty table with. And this is how goes these graceless days without you.