Black Hole

November Lonely Hearts Episode 2:

You Are The Product of Stars Exploding An Eternity Ago

My dear Supernova,

I have written you thousands of letters on papers that will never reach your hands. For almost every week, for the past three years, I have penned down my feelings, my thoughts and my questions. I would put them in envelopes with your name and seal them in wax for I knew you would love receiving it that way.

But I could never send them to you.

Every single time I think "This will be it. This one, you must receive", but once finished, I am left staring blankly at the page and unable to either send you the letters nor destroy them. And so they are left to rot in the box below my bed, forgotten and aging in a dark space that exists only when I open it. It would not matter anyways. All the letters say the same thing, the words only differ.

"What has become of you?"

"Are you eating well?"

"Why did you leave?"

"Was I the only one suffering?"

"Was there any point to break our bond?"

"Have you achieved the happiness we've dreamt of?"

You've become a dark stain; a vacuum of light. Was this what you wanted? The questions swirl in different words and mix with emotions I could not bear within me--and so I end up writing. Regurgitating words on paper saying the same things.

But like a pathetic child I cling onto your memory.

Cling on the chance that maybe the explosions aren't over yet. Maybe you aren't gone--I'm just blinded by so much of your light and that is why I can't see you. Maybe.

I still look up to the skies before dawn and at dusk. Waiting for the sun to rise and finding your colors in the sunset. I'm still waiting for you and hoping I'll pass you by as I float in this empty sky.

-R

That's not a love letter. And yes, I'm trying to sound victorian-ish or whatever. She liked those stuff.