This has become the sacred place of the secrets I cannot whisper to you. All of the words that my heart yearns to tell you end up on these pages, in these pixels. My love, my heartache, my joy, my exhaustion. All of these things belong to you.
I ache to know if they ever reach you, these letters cast into the ocean like so many bottled messages.
It has been almost three years, you know. Since that time. Three years of burning in my soul. Three years, and you are so good at keeping me hanging on, keeping me waiting. I will be waiting all of my life.
Oh Saint Stephen
Where is your feast when I
When I so sorely need it
When I've been hardly eating