My Dear,

I’m tongue-tied — I may not be able to say much. It’s been a long time since I looked into your eyes. In the rush of the day we never find a single quiet moment for ourselves.

If I speak, you’ll tell me you have no time for these childish whims. Fine — I’ll stop saying it. But if you ever feel like it, put out the dim light in your room and stare, blank-eyed, at the ceiling for a while. Maybe then you’ll feel what I feel; maybe you’ll see what’s inside me, and notice how wide the distance has grown.

What do you think? That I’m only being cryptic? You see nothing but darkness. There is no place left for jokes — my days and nights are full of nonsense.

Go ahead, add a couple more complaints to the list. Lately I’m beyond ordinary sorrow; call me an enlightened sage if that comforts you. I won’t tell another lie — I’ll try to speak only what’s true from my heart. No — I will tell you nothing but the truth. These sleepless nights have become unbearably irksome.

I’m tongue-tied; I won’t explain the reasons to anyone. You needn’t worry. Keep living your life as you do. I’ve learned a new craft: weaving stories — many lies, a little truth, and mostly imagination.

Enough of that. I’ve rambled so much I forgot the real thing I wanted to say: I miss your smile. I miss it a great deal. Without it, your face looks hollow and empty.

Always,
Someone