I STILL WRITE OF YOU (Hope This Letter Finds You Belle)


Why do I love you? Sometimes musing alone in separation from this world, I sink into myself and examine why I still feel not any less love from what I felt years ago, if not more. Such bits of explosions keep me on my toes and for my life I cant understand why I simply won’t stop wanting you. Its strange that I have been in this quagmire that irons my heart in this table of incessant reflections.


It seems somethings are of the salient type, those that conjure pain in your system that tears no longer flow but make your vision blurry. Its not that I haven’t tried falling in love with other girls, in fact I have these girls that I love almost as sinfully as you but they don’t quite match to the sin that is you. As humans we are bound to fall in and out of love and I have heard my share of those experiences but I wouldn’t know why I have been stuck in a pit of a love that never was in the first place.


I was a fool but I have never regretted sharing what I felt because unlike others I was open, honest and I pleaded for your love. Unrequition though would have none of it. Sometimes I want to hold you in my arms and close my eyes even for a moment and land in the furnace of time that though you wont be mine I would still be in a position to hear the beats of your heart. Maybe the tides that you reside hand in the storms of your treasure of lore.


It pains me though that as I continue to fall more in love with you, I silently keep it to myself. I scratch the wombs of time, I befuddle on the loins of experience and I know what speaking of this love would do to us. Its not wise for me anymore to share poetry that has Belle in it after all everyone thinks I moved on after writing the “The Last Chronicles of Belle” including you. but you cant be that blind as to regards with how i trace you or laugh at your jokes and commune with you in friendly texts. I understand you don’t feel as much or anything as I do and that is why I teach myself the art of loving in silence. It hurts very much, it kills me that I cant do a thing lest I become the stupidest fool of fools which to me I am already for bringing this letter out.


Yes, I recall everything about you and the moments we shared together alone. I may have not impressed you as it should be and i must have been a pathetic lover for you to give me a chance to share my love but I fucking love(d) you. I drink to much full-stops from the jar you feed me with and as you went ahead to try and love other men, it pained me, it really did. Yet I still laugh as if nothing is wrong and that wishing that someday you’ll see the truth keeps me holding my heart that it wont die before you calm it down. I don’t know what to do as I keep mulling over possibilities that don’t seem to pass even in your mind.


I hate you sometimes with the contempt of waking angst, boiling from rage that puffs me with ire to muddle your life but I don’t let evil posses me for long as you quiet my hate even with the simple words as sugar and dear one. I know you sweet talk others too that but at least the words manage to massage my traumatized heart. I shy from standing in front of you or sending a text to tell how much I love you, I recount the past times I have done that without any response and I shriek. If that was then that you responded mildly what about now that you have no idea of this flaming love or maybe you just pretend that you don’t. I know I have given you ideas on how I still need you hidden behind the mastery of metaphors and symbolism in poetry. You wouldn’t know how many times over the span of time since we “buried” this “thing” that I have composed desperate, heartfelt, stormy texts and poems that I refrained from sending or sharing with you.


There is nothing that hurts the most as when I keep seeing you love another person and I don’t want to tell you that you shouldn’t try all I want to say is that while you bleed out there, I reek at the amount of tears that well inside me. Talk to me Belle, don’t you love me? I am a mess. Its the hall of fools in love that I reside but in the mind of the wise that I choose not to interrupt your seemingly flowing love life. My silence hurts me more than anything else. I stopped complaining, I went ahead to work on life to be a better man and yes I can assure you I am more mature but if my love remains immature for you, it shall be so ad-infinitum. BUT I FUCKING LOVE YOU TO HELL AND BACK.


We share alot and maybe it is my fear of loosing you completely that holds me back for I’d rather watch you from this hole in this prison where I can at-least hug or laugh with you than from a desert where I cant find you. I feel ashamed to say all these but I cant help how much I love you till now. These things rarely happen this way, as realities in life are even more painful. I know its just that you never got the picture of the size of the gigantic love I had for you. You reckoned being not my muse and rubbed it on my face why you cant date poets who seemingly unpack you to the public. I swear I even tried quitting poetry to come to you as  a man only. but this didn’t help. And it is not that the title poet is polluted as i made you believe, i would want to be recognized as one only that i want you to accept me someday as one. i would strip all the burnt pages, words freak, violins and piers that dilute my writing if only you will come to me.


But this letter isn’t for plea nor pity but just to let you know that as you continue with life, know that I will always love you in my own strange way. Whether it makes me jealous, pained or dead that is not your worry. From my experience with silent love, I learnt that sometimes its not wise to speak about these things, you’d rather love how you know and let the world campaign in your eardrums on how you need to go face her and tell her about your love for her. Somethings don’t work that way. I still love you ragingly, madly and furiously Belle. I still love you passionately, foolishly and painfully. I still want that kiss, that long hug, that cuddle, my god I still want to hold your hands and look into your eyes, I want to make love to you, I do insanely. I DO LOVE YOU FOOL. I’ll stop there lest I become more stupid to the world than I already am.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s