It’s amazing to think of how much time we have spent here. “here,” I say as if this dark place has been some cozy space.
For what these pages have turned into are murky souls, duplicitous and bold.
I’ve been writing to you here for about a year. It started innocently, sharing my love poems with the whole of Reddit under my known name. Do you remember one of the first poems I sent directly to you? I poured my heart into it, knowing it would convey exactly what I needed it to.
Loving me is loving you. It took me a while to learn that.
I remember the time stamp on that first letter of yours. I could hardly believe its truth. But something tells me you’ve been here writing to me for much longer. The depth of your mind and its formed words are dark halls I would walk down for life; Leading me to a greater understanding of it all. Leading me to knowing us.
It’s hard to keep up with you. You’re a far better writer than I, and your ability to switch modes is terribly impressive. We’ve convinced folx here that we’re just one person writing and responding to ourselves. Well, they’re not entirely wrong, are they?
For your soul and mine were meant to linger and intertwine. They were meant to mend and shape into love’s great fate. It’s questionable, how much I love you, and it is more than obvious, too. But oh you, my love, my everything, my heart. I truly will always follow you into the dark.