Never let me go

A note before reading;

For full effect (it even made me cry, and I wrote it), play this whilst reading. (Right click and open in new tab)


You would point your pen directly at my heart. Every word you wrote would seep through my pores, making me transparent in every possible way. I would become vulnerable underneath your omniscient imagination, yet you would protect me.
Each letter was a moment we would share, threading and entwining us in a web of luxurious memories. Though, at times, we were days apart, I could still feel your warmth, feel your breath, as if you were inches from my soul, feeling my heart beat, as if you were the reason for its palpitations.
Those were the days. When your greatest pleasure was to breathe the same air as I. When all we needed was to be drunk on our rich contentment, so thick with fulfilled dreams and promises to sustain us.

That was before you went away. Away to fight a noble cause, to be the man I had made you out to be.

I remember that moment that I saw it in your eyes. The moment we knew we would never see each other again. Nothing could have stopped you, could it? To tell you that the man I saw you as had nothing to do with conquest, with victory or valour, but with the tenderness of your soul, with the fluttering of your eyelids as you awoke each morning, with the way you laughed, with the way you spoke. Each page you wrote was written in passion. It was you that I loved, not your achievements, your exterior, your surfaces and lines.

Was it written in the stars, all those years ago, when pressing my shoulders against the still warm bitumen I refused to look at you, in favor for those all-knowing lights. Like Shakespeare's most beloved, star-crossed two, was it fated that we were never meant to last?

You had looked down at me, my hair spread out like a halo agaisnt the black. I looked at your shoes, your belt, but never your eyes. Was I scared that I would glimpse that same look, the look that let me go?

Impatiently you insisted I get up. I refused, wanting so much more from those distant lights.

A car turned onto the street, your cool hand grasped my warm as you pulled me to you.










Kind of part of a series;
The part pre-dating part one.
Part one.