I have written before, to you. On occasion we have made contact. I wanted you to know that I am still listening, although you fail to write me small mere mentions of our past anymore. I have forgiven you (kind of) and I hope that you are aware of what you have done. You have placed me at a time and space where nothing can be continued. My heart no longer captures what it used to feel. Everything is blank, when it comes to love, and I wanted you to know that I am blaming you. I have forgiven, but I will still point my finger when a new lover asks me where I have gone. I will show them pictures of a forgotten forest somewhere where I will never walk again. I will never grow, like the trees grew that year.
Thank you,
Glamour
