Dear Love,
I missed you today when I awoke from my slumber only to find my heart empty and my eyes still tired. My dreams are slowly becoming as I sleepwalk steadfast throughout my day wondering how you are and why I am not the one and they are most definitely bittersweet, like the rest of me.
I’m a little scared. I know I shouldn’t say that. Although I will admit it is a thought that frequently visits the back of my mind lately. I shouldn’t feel this way, I know, and that isn’t even the hardest part. The hardest part is that I did this knowingly. You have some how changed me and I am not sure what that means exactly. I certainly do not know you long enough to feel this way, but I certainly do long to know you better. Perhaps because I enjoy you deeply. I’m not good at relationships. You make me feel uncertain, awkward, weird, vulnerable, and a few other things that I’m too prude to write. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t tell you this: I have left the broken wreckage of relationships behind me. I couldn’t stand to ever hurt you and though I am very concerned that you will hurt me, I have taken the chance and fallen anyway. I hope that you can forgive me.
Love,
Your Muse. (I'm flattered)
