It was the last thing she found of him after he had left.
Afraid to touch the slightest, she breathed in deeply, desiring to inhale even the air surrounding his belongings.
It was the place where he was inspired; where he once sat and wrote down his deepest thoughts, his innermost emotions, those sentiments that drench our minds but which we don’t have the courage to say out loud.
It seemed like hours had passed before she approached his vintage wooden desk.
A pile of papers lay in disarray, all hand-written verses. And in the middle, strategically placed, was a single, long-stemmed red rose.
She leaned over to read…
“You’ll always be my forever,
My secret, my desire, my happiness;
Even if I lose you, I know you’ll be there,
Running across my mind,
Hiding in my dreams,
Drowning in my sorrows of having let you go.
You’ll forever be my always,
My love, my joy, my wholeness;
Beautiful as the first day I saw you,
Wild, energetic and bright,
Glimmering like the sun,
Sparkling like the stars,
Emanating that positive aura only you possess.
You and me will never be,
That’s what you said,
And it tore me to pieces
Like the verses in my head.
If always and forever were ever really true,
All I would ever want is to spend an eternity with you.”