It was a beautiful letter written in the finest of tears and crafted by the hardest of hands. It was written for him. My script drew across the paper all of my hopes and dreams. I wanted to give him a choice but he had left me none. I wanted to love him longer but not from a distance. I needed him there but not at the expense of drawing my own blood. He shook me to the core but the letter was solid.
This was goodbye, a funeral of fury, the viewing of a relationship that once breathed life from its mouth.
I was gone, this time for good. Surprisingly I felt free and realized I was only loving him more because of it.
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