Hey.
It's been a while since I wrote to you.
I wonder if you are still listening.
I wonder if you ever were.
I miss you.
Sometimes I think I see you.
Or I hear you.
Like your ghost was visiting to remind me of you.
If it wasn't for the messages I would've doubted you were real.
But you were real.
You were here.
I loved you.
I love you.
But my love couldn't fly 3692 miles to see you.
Wipe your tears and hold you close.
And your ashes were whisked away by the sky.
You always did wish you could fly.
I think a part of me died with you.
I can feel the parts of me that have rotted.
But though my lungs heave and ache without you,
And my body is weighted with guilt,
I am happy.
I knew you.
I knew every part of you.
That was an honour I'll never get again.
I wonder what you'd be like now,
17 years old and finally free?
Maybe you'd be happy.
Happy with me.
Maybe.
This might be last one.
At some point I have to move on.
Sometimes it feels like I caught the bullet,
Of the gun you shot.
I think it's time I let it heal.
I hope things are good now.
I hope you are better.
I just wanted  to say I still think of you.
I always will.

Yours sincerely,
x