You both have the gall to write me letters. Love letters, full of want
and longing, full of ache and pain.

Full of empty promises like the empty promises of the way you chose to
live.

You were given a chance to speak, to say what you desired. To speak
honestly and with heart. You both failed. Letters will never make up for
failure.

You may not think that what you have penned is a love letter- but any
women so obsessed with the past must be enamored still to write such
things. To still care. It has been months.

-You beg to forget. For me to allow ours times together to meld into the
background of time, so that you may be free of the horrid weight of my
leaving you.

And you, you bemoan the cruelty of Fate. The irony of Life. Did you not
say you would know waiting as I once had? Welcome to it.

It is futile.

I would like to be kind. But I have said my kind words and I was kind in
leaving you both the way that I did. I am finished with it.

Perhaps you would both find the time to whine and cry, and someone who
would care in the arms of one another. Considering how Gods damned cold
it is up there, you'll need the body heat anyway.

You deserve eachother.




Penned by my hand on the 10th of Artificium, in the year 570 AD.