War, of all things, had brought us together.

19 November 

J, 

I find myself searching for you every time I leave the confines of my home. As I approach a looming corner my heart beats beyond the maximum level of survival, somewhat like a galloping thoroughbred. In a moment of undeniable insanity I imagine you are standing there around that corner, waiting for me. I cannot help but feel my heart descend, as if plummeting to Earth from the clouds, when I realize you are nowhere to be seen. I do acknowledge how silly I am being. You are worlds away and, yet, in my mind time and space elude me. I picture you will just appear, ready to sweep me away like a ravaging current, and I, not willing to fight, surrender to you. 

Still you are nowhere to be found just yet. Truth be told I have no idea whether you are dead or alive. A morbidly sobering and frightful thought on my part. Communication between us had been abruptly shut down, as you can remember, in a moment of, well, strength. Yes, strength would have to be the dreadful word for this undeniable truth. 

War, of all things, had brought us together. War had given us love. How funny to think of it in such a fashion, but alas, it is true. How I regret it, the dire moment of otherworldly courage which struck us both so suddenly, the instant I had lost you forever. The moment silence overcame us was the moment a part of me perished. 

You are home from the war now and because of your homeward bound departure, all communication has thus ceased between us. I often lay awake at night and still dream of your voice whispering to me in my ear, telling me stories of another life where we can somehow be together, your voice like honey as it soothes my aching heart, coaxing me to sleep. 

I can sometimes hear it as vividly as if you were standing right there beside me, for your voice is, to me, ever more real than my own.  

Sincerely,

Hopeless