Sweet Chick, Familiar Face

Monday Letters #

The melody lingers, a faint echo in the recesses of a crowded bar. It's the same song that played the night we met, an accidental collision of souls drawn to the rhythm of escaping reality.

You, a vision in a sea of faces, captivated by the lights and swayed by the poetry in the red wine. Me, a cynic disguised as a dreamer, drowning sorrows in the laughter of other people.

Our eyes met across the room, a silent conversation sparking in the dimly lit space. You, with a smile that could disarm cynicism's tightest grip, and me, caught off guard by the unfamiliar flutter in my chest. It was an unspoken invitation, a dare to break down those walls we'd built around our hearts.

We talked for hours, the world fading away as we laughed, trying not to be vulnerable, slowly being vulnerable. You, with your infectious laughter and unwavering optimism, and me, slowly letting down my guard, drawn to the warmth in your eyes. It felt like coming home, a sense of belonging I hadn't realized I craved ...

. . .

The melody still lingers, now a bittersweet echo in the silence of my apartment. On that night we met, I could tell our story was just beginning. We were strangers who loved the walls around us, yet yearned to break them down, brick by hopeful brick. Maybe we did, maybe we didn't.

I tell you I'm not really as smart as you think me to be. I never claimed to be a saint, but I knew somewhere deep down, I needed you to be my angel. I'm not so good at goodbyes like my countenance would have you believe. Y'know, sometimes I wonder. If I had expressed myself more simply, reminding you everyday of how you make me a much better person, would it have yielded a much better or worse outcome?

I'm still working on my goodbyes, and believe me, when I'm done I'll make it easier for us.

— Dee.