A thread amongst threads, only.
I write letters to you…. all the time– Letters I will never send. Or better yet- that I send and receive simultaneously.
Do not misunderstand.
Like our marriage- I write these letters not to you- actually- but to the mythical you in whose place you briefly resided until it was clear you didn’t fit.
So understand this. You- are mine- my you. Not your you. So don’t be flattered. Don’t feel guilty. Guilt is a misinterpretation like a circus mirror or phony fortune tellers crystal ball telling you only what you want to hear. I have left the carnivàle.
Do not lament that your absence left a broken heart, a poor weeping soul. My soul weeps splendid tears of pain and joy larger than you or us or me, with or without you. And a heart is a muscle that when used- breaks- only to grow stronger.
Be at peace, my letters have little to do with you.
My soul writes letters to itself…stitching new realities from past threads. You are a thread amongst threads. Find yourself there only.
You are a thread amongst threads; I am the weaver.