Dear Willa,

I'm writing you for health and recovery, not just selfish feelings of affection. The truth is your love haunts me still. When I turn off my lights at night, its as if you're in the corner of the room still whispering sweet gestures in my ear. My love persists without permission and only rears itself in my dreams. You are not just the girl of my dreams, you ARE the girl of my dreams. Even though your physical presence left me long ago, your phantom stays in my mind, caressing me and keeping me company in the loneliest crevasses of my brain. I miss you every morning and think of you often in waking life, though it seems harmful for me. I can't help but think of you when just the night before you smiled at me so sweet and told me you still love me in so many different scenes. It appears that when I told you my heart was yours with my hands cupped together with nothing but air in them and tears in my eyes, I was giving you more than I knew.

It's only you for me, just like the whooping crane, for he has a wife his for all his life and if she dies, he'll do the same.

Goodnight,
My Hotpak