Dear... You in the Stars
This is a letter that will never arrive. The mailman would squint at the words scrawled on the envelope, the postal service would send it back to the return address.
Because you are hidden in the sky, and only my whispered prayers would have a chance to reach you.
The garden we laid in is blooming. The place where you crushed Auntie's favorite flowers has grown over. Even the stars are different now, because of the changing seasons. They ripped up the field near the road, saying they're going to build some parking lot or building. It makes me angry, like the world is trying to wipe away the traces of you.
I'm hanging on for you. It's hard but I'm doing it for you, because I miss you and I love you and I'm sorry I never told you.
I'm sorry that I didn't kiss you before you left. I wanted to, so badly, if only she hadn't walked in.
When I heard the news, when I read your note, I cried for days. Nobody else knew you, nobody understood. But I sang and cried and melted into the chair you used to sit in, my tears soaking into the armrests. Your drawings on my walls. The officials took away your note, but I copied it. I carry it in my shirt pocket, close to my heart.
They classified it as an accident. But everyone knew it was suicide. Your uncle had vanished, they burned your body and sent false prayers into the sky. Nobody left but me.
I've been staying out of those institutions. I've been trying to carry on. And I'm holding the scraps of you to myself, like a precious treasure. I know one day I'll forget your face, the sound of your voice. I know one day the details of your smile, your little dimples, your warm skin and your dark hair, will fade into a fuzzy memory. But in the end, I'll always remember to the best of my ability. I promise.
You are my sky, my world. You are my everything.