L – listen, I …
I’m writing because I don’t know how else to reach you. I was given two weeks to live. I haven’t told anyone else and I don’t intend to.
Someone once told me that I was eloquent, but I can barely find the words now. A memory, then. I’m still not sure I didn’t imagine it. I was barely alive and you took me up the snowy mountainside. Did we fly? We were in the woods, just having met and vying. Unsure. But you took my hand and — all the in-between’s a blur — we were so high above the world I couldn’t breathe. Maybe it was the cold, or your iceblue eyes. Or that kiss I never knew I wanted.
It will be my last. Was I really the only one who ever knew your whole story and loved you anyway? You will hate me for saying this, but you’re my little prince. Lost though you may be, remember that once, someone loved you with all of this foolish heart. Remember. I hope this note will find you and I hope you can forgive me for leaving so soon. Can you? Then come find me and be the last one to hold me.
(Disclaimer: This is part of the letter series)