When my blue skies have turned grey, I listen to that one Emeli Sandé song and reminisce about you every single day. The moment you opened your eyes, I was right there by your side and my love for you comes as no surprise. But I knew that someday my love wouldn’t be good enough for you and that somehow, you’d find a way to disappear. I hope you’ve found a way to finally stop smoking cigarettes and drinking ***** like there’s a message in the bottle. Love, I wish you’d be more open about your feelings because bottling everything in is detrimental. I still write about you in hopes that one day you’ll read all these words and hopefully find your way back to me. I still miss the sweet scent of your presence on the white duvet covers and cotton sheets of my memory. Love is blind and that I already know, but I had never pictured writing these words without you. Maybe you were right when you said that my love is as bad as my handwriting is – maybe I should’ve seen it coming. Your aura always took me to peaceful picturesque places that I had only seen in my dreams. I still want to hold your heart like the lonely autumn trees hold the fragility of clinging leaves. But I knew that someday my love wouldn’t be good enough for you and that somehow, you’d find a way to disappear.
Hatfield is a suburb in Pretoria, South Africa.
It is also the place where I met a girl who would go on to inspire some of my best poems. It's a shame that we're no longer together. This is dedicated for her.