The Letter I'll Never Send

I'll never tell you, but deep down in the furthest corner of my heart, I keep a flame alive for you.

In the version of things that I tell myself (to prevent from feeling the devastating loss of that flame going out) I say that you pushed me away to protect yourself. I say that all you've known is loss and pain and that your nervous system can't handle having me back. I tell myself that we both know now is not the right time, and that your abandonment only happened because you wanted to protect the last bit of flame you still hold for me. I say that you're holding that flame the way I'm holding mine, in secret hopes that one day we can hold each others hearts without breaking them. We've both been too clumsy with each others glass hearts, and we're paying for that right now.

In that secret letter that I've hidden away, 10-15 years will pass. I'll raise my kids and you'll raise yourself and put in the work it takes to get life back on track. You'll heal because you were meant to, and because life could be so much sweeter.

You'll wake up each morning and work with your back, and bring calloused hands back home to hold mine. On your hardest days you'll never turn to the bottle, because laying your head on my chest is the new safest place to be. You'll trust your place there, and no where else could ever feel so much like Home.

I recognize that all your life you've had to look over your shoulder and fear the unknown, but in this letter I've written for us, you'll finally let me give you peace and protect you the way you protect me. With a big strong back and biceps for days, there's nothing I fear that can come through our door, and you'll finally relent that your heart is safe with me and you won't have to fear any more.

When I'm stuck in my head, feeling useless and worthless, unworthy of the basic things, you'll hold my pain and me in your arms, and you'll choose me day after day. Maybe, since we're pretending, I can say that I'll believe every word you say, and that your heart will only beat for me.

In that make-believe space I've built in my head, I'll tend to the chickens and you'll tend to the land. I'll buy goats and you'll gripe, but always save me a smile. You'll build me a bookshelf that reaches from floor to ceiling, and I'll marvel at all that your hands can do and have done for me and our home. On those quiet nights, I'll lay my head in your lap while I read a new book and you watch the news and comment about "kids these days". Or we'll sit by the fire and love and laugh about the way we used to be. Sometimes we'll cry, for all the time we wasted not loving each other right. But the tears will be allowed to come and flow and we will feel that pain together, and then walk through it hand in hand.

I'm writing you this letter, to let you know that deepest part of me still has hope. To tell you that I can give you life, and peace, and unconditional love, and that a small flame exists for you still and always will. You know I have to hide it, for fear that none of it's real. To expose that flame would be to risk it being blow out, shown to be pretend. Though that is true, if I keep it to myself, maybe it has a chance to survive.

I know I should tell you, but you'd probably flee because you can't stand the idea of being happy. You don't know what it feels like to wake up in love, and to know that the love is unending. I could give that to you. My tiniest hope says that one day I will.

Until then, letter...meet flame.