Walking On Faded Foot Prints...
Mon cheré Susan.
It is not hard for me to understand what you are going through. Through out I have been a complete jerk and went onto deepen your grief. I can offer you only my humble apologies for not understanding. You have always been the one with the better senses and instinct. I call upon you to make use of them.
Susan, ask yourself why I came about to love you in the first place. Perhaps this time I would avoid repeating myself as to what, or rather how much I think about you. It does not help, that I know now. However, there is one thing I want to be clear about.
It cannot be described in the poetry that runs through my veins begging me to bleed so that it can flow freely and find its way to you. The songs and the music that I could never sing or play for you do not have the potency to give you what I want. As you've put it quite so often, accidentally you opened upto me one lonely night and hitherto there is no reason that you, yourself could ascertain as to why you told me about your life. I do not know either. Nonetheless, everything changed from the moment that you told me what you have been through and the enourmous burden of the decisions that you had to make. I wanted you to find happiness, find the bliss and find love. I felt love for you. But I felt that I would be taking advantage of your fragile emotional state if I had told you that I love you and how much I wanted to care for you.
My love for you was never about taking, is not and never will be; it was none save giving you the happiness that you've lost. I felt very guilty for only having said that and did nothing more for you in the way of lightening your burden or materialising my pledge through accomplishment. Time and place would not allow me, but I try my best not to bend my will accordingly to the circumstances. I always try my best to do the other way round. BUT then I erred. I did nothing for you. When I forced the words out of you, coerced a confession that you loved me, I knew it would have consequences for you and me. I am sure that you were aware of it, you told me more than once and I refused to believe. Ask why. I knew that the least I could do was to fill in the silence with the very little I had to offer; only a few words, songs and poetry. All this being said, I still felt that you would be much happier with the memories that we cherished at that moment than otherwise had been where as I just offered you only my words, but not my heart. I did so, because I felt an overpowering urge which pushed my feelings for you and erupted in a rage, intensity and passion. Rage, because I knew you cannot come to terms with it, neither the world nor the people in it. Intensity was essential in my capacity of the very little man I am, I felt that I could never give the love that you deserve no matter how hard I try. And passion, because of the things we share in common principle/axioms, culture and art. I love you, Susan."
It had to end. I knew it, as well as you. I understand when you say that you are not comfortable with intruding into someone else's life (or perhaps my age or even that this all came through electronically might have partially been eligible for prompting your decisions) and also the consequences our association might have had on our lives that we preferred not to utter. But we did. We are much happier now knowing that we love each other. Most importantly, comes your decision to leave it all. I respect that decision. If I could make you happier by getting it over with then I will. Here, I assume that getting over is only to the extent of not talking about the forbidden love that we found to be the only truth we ever knew; that we loved each other and yet cannot have it.
Yet why do you cry? Why do you mourn? Why do I give you headaches? Susan, you owe me nothing in the way of words or action. Perhaps you felt that I was forcing you again to say and do the things you thought were wrong. I am not asking for any. Instead, all I want you to be is happy; if this means suppressing my love for you inside my heart until death frees it into the netherworld with my last breath on earth, then it will be. I will not utter a word, a song or a poem that would announce the presence of my love for you. I will hide it behind a cloak of faith, trust and respect, on your account and yours only. Find your mind's peace. Free your worries. Hear the words that I dare not utter, feel my hand that caresses your skin without being felt and let the breeze of time carry my kisses for you and take away the scars that cruel life had inflicted upon you...this love will never die, and yet it will stay forever hidden if that is your wish.
Susan, if you want to get over this, I would understand. But please do not hurt yourself in doing so. You have not spoken to me for days on. But I do find my strength when I see the birds singing together in harmony and rhyming their cadences with perfect notes of love. I feel your love in that; when the flora of the spring blooms with the might of its colours and fine aroma, it brings a state of fulfillness to my mind. I feel you. I do not need to see you nor touch you to feel your love, but I do feel it around me each and everyday. I feel you. I do not need to see you nor touch you to feel your love, but I do feel it around me each and everyday. And so would you...
Weep my love, weep from your heart when tears refuse to harvest the grief in your eyes. That I do very often. But I understand why it has to be...because I love you more than myself to think about what I am entitled to from this association. There is one thing, I ask for. A promise. A promise that I hold you to take a pledge upon. A pledge to try and never give up. A pledge to find the happiness and love that you deserve, and to hold my hand and never let go...take on me, Susan.
Susan. Do not grieve yourself. You will find that happiness. And I would be grateful for your accomplishment whenever and whereever it maybe. I ask you for nothing in return. I want you to be happy again and find yourself the Susan who knew how precious life is. You will once again laugh, smile and post messages on forum...hehe
But I will give you the time that you ask for to be with yourself. I will be here for you all the while. When you are ready, I look forward to talking to you again. But this time, the only difference is that our love wanders forever in the maze of the Tuscan Woods, never to find its way to the living world. I do not expect your reply nor opinion. It is yours to give should you consider doing so. The purpose of this e-mail is to let you know, whatever decision that you make, I will be here for you to call me on and that you are never alone...
I love you, Susan.
With love
A person brought to by the twists of fate warped with the cruel Justice of Destiny
It is not hard for me to understand what you are going through. Through out I have been a complete jerk and went onto deepen your grief. I can offer you only my humble apologies for not understanding. You have always been the one with the better senses and instinct. I call upon you to make use of them.
Susan, ask yourself why I came about to love you in the first place. Perhaps this time I would avoid repeating myself as to what, or rather how much I think about you. It does not help, that I know now. However, there is one thing I want to be clear about.
It cannot be described in the poetry that runs through my veins begging me to bleed so that it can flow freely and find its way to you. The songs and the music that I could never sing or play for you do not have the potency to give you what I want. As you've put it quite so often, accidentally you opened upto me one lonely night and hitherto there is no reason that you, yourself could ascertain as to why you told me about your life. I do not know either. Nonetheless, everything changed from the moment that you told me what you have been through and the enourmous burden of the decisions that you had to make. I wanted you to find happiness, find the bliss and find love. I felt love for you. But I felt that I would be taking advantage of your fragile emotional state if I had told you that I love you and how much I wanted to care for you.
My love for you was never about taking, is not and never will be; it was none save giving you the happiness that you've lost. I felt very guilty for only having said that and did nothing more for you in the way of lightening your burden or materialising my pledge through accomplishment. Time and place would not allow me, but I try my best not to bend my will accordingly to the circumstances. I always try my best to do the other way round. BUT then I erred. I did nothing for you. When I forced the words out of you, coerced a confession that you loved me, I knew it would have consequences for you and me. I am sure that you were aware of it, you told me more than once and I refused to believe. Ask why. I knew that the least I could do was to fill in the silence with the very little I had to offer; only a few words, songs and poetry. All this being said, I still felt that you would be much happier with the memories that we cherished at that moment than otherwise had been where as I just offered you only my words, but not my heart. I did so, because I felt an overpowering urge which pushed my feelings for you and erupted in a rage, intensity and passion. Rage, because I knew you cannot come to terms with it, neither the world nor the people in it. Intensity was essential in my capacity of the very little man I am, I felt that I could never give the love that you deserve no matter how hard I try. And passion, because of the things we share in common principle/axioms, culture and art. I love you, Susan."
It had to end. I knew it, as well as you. I understand when you say that you are not comfortable with intruding into someone else's life (or perhaps my age or even that this all came through electronically might have partially been eligible for prompting your decisions) and also the consequences our association might have had on our lives that we preferred not to utter. But we did. We are much happier now knowing that we love each other. Most importantly, comes your decision to leave it all. I respect that decision. If I could make you happier by getting it over with then I will. Here, I assume that getting over is only to the extent of not talking about the forbidden love that we found to be the only truth we ever knew; that we loved each other and yet cannot have it.
Yet why do you cry? Why do you mourn? Why do I give you headaches? Susan, you owe me nothing in the way of words or action. Perhaps you felt that I was forcing you again to say and do the things you thought were wrong. I am not asking for any. Instead, all I want you to be is happy; if this means suppressing my love for you inside my heart until death frees it into the netherworld with my last breath on earth, then it will be. I will not utter a word, a song or a poem that would announce the presence of my love for you. I will hide it behind a cloak of faith, trust and respect, on your account and yours only. Find your mind's peace. Free your worries. Hear the words that I dare not utter, feel my hand that caresses your skin without being felt and let the breeze of time carry my kisses for you and take away the scars that cruel life had inflicted upon you...this love will never die, and yet it will stay forever hidden if that is your wish.
Susan, if you want to get over this, I would understand. But please do not hurt yourself in doing so. You have not spoken to me for days on. But I do find my strength when I see the birds singing together in harmony and rhyming their cadences with perfect notes of love. I feel your love in that; when the flora of the spring blooms with the might of its colours and fine aroma, it brings a state of fulfillness to my mind. I feel you. I do not need to see you nor touch you to feel your love, but I do feel it around me each and everyday. I feel you. I do not need to see you nor touch you to feel your love, but I do feel it around me each and everyday. And so would you...
Weep my love, weep from your heart when tears refuse to harvest the grief in your eyes. That I do very often. But I understand why it has to be...because I love you more than myself to think about what I am entitled to from this association. There is one thing, I ask for. A promise. A promise that I hold you to take a pledge upon. A pledge to try and never give up. A pledge to find the happiness and love that you deserve, and to hold my hand and never let go...take on me, Susan.
Susan. Do not grieve yourself. You will find that happiness. And I would be grateful for your accomplishment whenever and whereever it maybe. I ask you for nothing in return. I want you to be happy again and find yourself the Susan who knew how precious life is. You will once again laugh, smile and post messages on forum...hehe
But I will give you the time that you ask for to be with yourself. I will be here for you all the while. When you are ready, I look forward to talking to you again. But this time, the only difference is that our love wanders forever in the maze of the Tuscan Woods, never to find its way to the living world. I do not expect your reply nor opinion. It is yours to give should you consider doing so. The purpose of this e-mail is to let you know, whatever decision that you make, I will be here for you to call me on and that you are never alone...
I love you, Susan.
With love
A person brought to by the twists of fate warped with the cruel Justice of Destiny
posted by Susan | 12:25 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home