This month we asked our ROSEBLOOD team to give us their unsent love letters in which they spill their guts to us but never to who they were written for.
A too-late love letter
I am drowning. I’m drowning in the high tide that is your eyes, pulling me and thrashing me about with no mercy. The dark brown waters aren’t what most would consider a beautiful view, but to me they are the deepest lagoon. I am honestly afraid of how you make me feel, it isn’t what I’m used to but I know that I don’t want to get out of it. Instead, I would rather lay back, close my eyes, and let the tide pull me under and drag me away. Those moments where you watch me turn the pages to a book or pluck the strings of my guitar and you think that I don’t notice, but I see the glances and I wonder if you can hear my heart too, or maybe you can see it under the skin of my neck. I crave those soft touches where skin barely touches skin but it’s enough to make the hairs pay attention and the bumps to rise. I need the too loud sound that emits from your full lips when you laugh at my bad jokes and those lines that tickle your closed eyes. And then they open. And I can practically see the emotion splashing against the brown that I beg to flood me. I want to become fluent in our language, in which your thigh touches mine and I know what you’re saying. Where emotions leaking from our eyes crash against each other in a mighty wave that smothers any other feelings of jealousy or naivety. I am drowning and I welcome the flood.
– Freya Mowe
i’m not even sure where to begin, so i’ll start off by saying that i miss you. maybe you’ve forgotten about me by now, or maybe you haven’t. maybe you miss me too.i began to panic the other day because i couldn’t remember the sound of your voice. i couldn’t remember our conversations or the jokes we shared together. it’s like i’m looking at you through dirty glass that gets even filthier which each passing day. you’re beginning to fade away, to slip out of my fingertips, and that scares me. it sounds pathetic, i should just let you go but i don’t. and it’s not even that i want to be with you, i just miss your presence and your words and i don’t want to lose my memories of you.
you fucked with my emotions, knowing that i would never stay mad at you for anything. you expected me to just let it go and move on, but i couldn’t. it’s like you were so numb to my feelings. you didn’t care even when you said you did, and i didn’t want to admit that to myself. i suffered with my emotions in silence, not wanting to burden you with the weight of my problems. i always stayed quiet, but now i wish i hadn’t. if i were who i am today, i never would’ve let you do that to me.
i’ve grown so much since our time together, and i’m sure you have too. i’ve realized a lot of things, and know that i don’t hold anything against you and i forgive you for everything.
i miss you, but i know i have to move on now. i’ve been hanging on to this idea of you for so long, and i have no idea why. i just hope that you’re happy and healthy.
I wrote a poem about you, two actually. I’d love to meet up with you one day to have coffee and catch up on everything. I don’t even like coffee, but I wouldn’t mind the taste of it if I were with you. I once told you that life was unpredictable and that I couldn’t give definite answers on the future. Darling, I look for you in every person I meet. I wake up to perpetual emptiness. My days are spent clinging onto thoughts of you, I can’t remember what your favorite shirt looked like and it’s killing me. I’d give anything to spend even a second with you. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to touch someone again. I’m so consumed by sadness, that to transfer that to an undeserving secondary character in my love story with you feels incredibly wrong. I cut my hair. I had to free the traces of your fingers combing through it. At least I’ve still got my spontaneity. I sifted through the pages of our relationship to piece together the exact moment it became one sided. I only got paper cuts.