Here we are again. Just you and I. I wanted to bring you here the first time I saw you, but it took me weeks to ask. But here we are.
I remember how your eyes were so bright in the morning sun. You would sit here with your tea and notebook. I wanted to join you so often, but you looked happy alone.
This iron—this rough, rusted iron—it held you up when I asked you to stay with me. To be my partner in life and love. I remember how you cried. How your tears felt like dew on the tender blades of grass further up the hill.
I still hear your laughter when I listen to the deep. The waves are kind and roll with peace. They would tickle your toes when you sat on the edge looking in.
I look in now, and I see you. I see your eyes have turned gray like the cloud over the water. I see your skin has lost its firmness, like the soil on the banks. I see me, looking down. I, too, am lifeless. I miss you and my heart feels a pain I never imagined could be true.
But here we are. You and I, and this lake of hope. I wanted to believe you when you said you still loved me. I wanted to trust you, but you loved another; it was clear.
These boards of wood at my feet are cold, but they aren’t as damp as my eyes. I’ve fallen so far… I’ve gone too far from the sun. I don’t know if I could even climb out of this hole. I don’t know that I want to.
And would you care? Would you cry for me as I have for you? I didn’t want to see it end like this… I didn’t want to hurt you. But did you give me a choice? Did you?
I hear whispers in the brush and wonder if it’s you. I know—I see—it can’t be you. But it sounds like your sweet voice. Calling to me, begging me to pull you from the murk. I can’t, though. You know that; don’t you?
It’s strange to see the distant shore concealed by such a thick fog. Never has it been so unreachable, so remote, as it has in recent days. When you were here, the sky was always blue, and the trees were full of life. I remember the squirrels that you would watch. The birds that followed you around.
Yet, here we are. Just you and I. And though the lake is full of you—stark red and twisted like smoke—I feel like you have gone away. But I won’t let you go alone. I never would let you go alone. I’ll join you, as I promised years before. Hello, love. I’ve missed you, but my heart is now numb.