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Writer's picturejane doe

subject: a letter to the echoes of yesterday

dear,


the weight of unspoken words hang heavy in the air, like a storm cloud threatening disaster. in the silence between us, i've found solace in the act of writing, a feeble attempt to encapsulate the emotions that have eluded conversation.


each stroke of memory is a poignant reminder of a love that flourished briefly before withering away, leaving behind the remnants of what could have been.


there's a certain ache that comes with realizing the impermanence of what we held dear. the echoes of laughter and shared dreams linger, taunting me with the ghost of a happiness that slipped through our fingers. it's like the universe conspired to rewrite the narrative we once co-authored.


in the quiet moments of reflection, i find myself grappling with the void left by your absence. the spaces between the lines of our story are now filled with the deafening noise of what remains unsaid.


it's a painful paradox – the more i long to bridge the gap, the wider it becomes.


I rewind the clock, if i could. not to rewrite our story, but to savor the fleeting moments we took for granted. it's a cruel irony that the clarity of hindsight arrives too late, revealing the beauty of what we had when it's already slipping away, isn't it, darling?


the whisper of a goodbye that hangs in the air. my heart echoes with the traces of what once was, a sound of sorrow that only time can compose.


with a heavy heart,

J.

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