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Old 10-11-2014, 12:00 PM
BookWorm (Offline)
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Default Lingering Ghosts

Originally Posted by Deadbox View Post
Dear Simone,

How many letters have I written you but never sent? More than I can count.

Young love. That’s one of the many things that come to mind when I think of you.

I have many fond memories of you. Walking you to class in the rain, through the ever-present construction at the university. We sat on the floor outside the room, talking some, kissing some, until your class was over and everyone started to leave. I remember a day by the Coke machine. I bought you a Coke, and you said, “I love you.” Having only recently ended a relationship with a woman who was far too clingy, in far too much of a hurry to become emotionally intimate as well as physically intimate, I said, “I love you, too,” with little enthusiasm.

I wish now that I had taken you into my arms, or at least have had the courage and understanding to look into your eyes and reply with the intensity that I feel today.

Part of me wonders why I bother to write to you twenty years later. What right have I to interfere with the happiness that you have found? That’s why I never came to visit you after you left. What good would it have done? I couldn’t have stayed more than a week. We would have just enough time to renew our feelings for each other, only to re-experience the hell of parting once again. Inevitably, like the boarding call of the flight that took you out of my life, hard circumstances would have forced me to leave.

What can I possibly say now that will make any difference to either of us, our lives being what they are? Only in dreams can we go back to that time, and dreams of what could have been are not enough to satisfy the present. I can only tell you that these things that I have left unsaid I carry with me. They keep me tied to a time that has past, like the restless spirits of the dead continuing to hold on to life though the vessel that carried it is gone.

There is a woman who I used to date, a couple of years before I met you. She left me to marry some other guy but still, even now, sends me a Christmas card each year. I could never figure out why. Then I heard somebody say, “She’s the ghost in his heart,” and it made perfect sense. A person who used to be in your life but now haunts your heart like a restless spirit. I suppose she sends me Christmas cards for the same reason I'm writing to you now.

Maybe it sounds like a bad love song, but it's true. I love you, Simone, and always will because you are the ghost in my heart.

Thank you for this. He will forever be the ghost in my heart.
My soul is lost in the words I never said, and found in ever word I write.
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