Dear lover,

Dear lover,

You know I have never been good at saying my mind when we have been face to face, so I thought I would write you this little bit of prose to tell you what you have meant to me. I hope that these words find you well, that enough time has passed and with it the bitterness that was once on your tongue. I can only dream that these words will speak to your heart, perhaps take root in the love you once bore for me and there find a place to survive, to turn distant memory into a fleeting ache for what we once shared. I still think of you fondly, remembering the moments we had together, those brief flashes of light that live on within the infinite spectrum of time. Experiences reflected into the mind as singular jewels of life.

I miss the touch of your flesh, the feel of your fingertips brushing across my bare back. The sound you would make as I knelt between parted thigh, the intake of your breath as I pushed myself into you. I can sometimes taste your sweat, as if my face was buried in your neck still, your arms wrapped around mine, pulling me closer to you. The scent of you filling my senses as I take your skin into my mouth so that I can hear you moan into my ear. You are every lover I have ever had and no lover that I have deserved. Our union was born in the climax of our deaths, and we fell to the sweat covered earth and lay still, until life returned to us.

I have felt your passion and shared with you my dreams. You taught me about life, you taught me what it means to be lost. I never knew what it meant to truly love until I looked into your eyes and saw my own reflection, my smile mirroring your smile as you reached out to take my hands into yours. Words did not need to be exchanged because the touch of flesh said what words could only fail to say. You blinked and my heart froze, as if you gave me life through your will alone. It was later that you showed me this was not true, that I could survive without you, a lesson that was hard taught but more valuable than you might know. I never got to thank you for that, teaching me a lesson I never knew I needed, but one that served me well.

I hope the wounds have healed, I know you still bear the scars, I wish I could take them from you but I have too many of my own to offer them a place to rest. I love these scars of mine, they remind me of you even when all else seems so far away. They bring me back to those times, those moments where only one such as you could strip me of my armor and lay bare the flesh to make wounds so deep. These scars are a reminder of lessons learned and love made, and I do not regret the moments that made them so, I cherish them for the gems that they are and only hope that your scars are as valued as mine.

You were the first, you are the last, and you are all of them between and though you may feel that none in the line are held sacred I can promise you that you all are. The impression of you on my life will forever be felt, you were and always will be special to me. My character has been eternally changed because of the time that we spent together and that is not something that is easily forgotten nor dismissed. I walk with my head held high, knowing that we had each other, even if the time was a blink of the cosmic eye, a fraction of all being. In that minuscule measurement of time I would live the rest of my days to hold you again, to smell you, to taste you, to feel you near me. Your moans echo in the deep halls of my mind, just as your touch still lingers on my jaw. Every scar is a lesson and scars only happen from being made vulnerable. You are marked as I am marked, and they are symbols of moments forever held close.

Always and forever,

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