Sillage: A Perfect Erotic Tale Between Two Imperfect Souls

‘The Last Letter To My Lover’

Dear You,

I don’t know if you are ever going to read this or if it would ever make any sense to you, but I had to write this down to take the load off my chest.

How have you been? It’s been quite some time we have not spoken; the last time we did was nothing more or less a conversation between someone who was explaining her heart out and someone who was explaining his disinterest. But trust me, I would never blame you for losing the charm, the attraction and the feeling towards me; maybe you never felt the same way I did, or maybe you did, but never realized the feeling. If the feeling was untrue, I would have never seen those sparks in your eyes whenever I gazed into them; I would have never seen your fingers shaking on your guitar, whenever you played it with a smirk on your face, knowing the feeling of being watched; I would have never felt your lips trembling while calling out my name whenever we were alone; I would have never noticed the sweat on your forehead when my aura played with yours; I would have never felt the ‘spark’ whenever the tips of our fingers touched each other while passing different objects – we knew it was not static electricity!

I always tried to explain to you what we had was special; it was spiritual, but why would I expect you to understand the Yin Yang connection, when all you saw was practicality in your earlier relationships? The girls that you earlier dated were not worth it; they weren’t worth you. They complained of you ‘not being enough.’ I saw you more than that – I saw the determination behind the man who spent hours working to make more and more in his life; I saw the dedication in the heart of the man who has swollen his fingers to learn a new thing almost every month. I know you laugh out loudly, but there is always a pain behind that smile – now don’t nod your head to deny this – there is always a question behind the answers that you give. Don’t worry about the girls who left you or betrayed you; you deserve so much better and you have absolutely no idea about it.

When we spoke for the last time, you asked me if there’s anything I wish to say – there were so many things that I wanted to say, especially the three words that we had only exchanged with our eyes – but your tone scared me; I feared our depart and not because I was obsessive or possessive – these two adjectives can never describe any part of my character. The only thing I ever feared was losing you – the fear of not getting another chance to look into those eyes – the fear of not being able to express myself ever again, since I did it only in front of you. So I gulped ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’ down my throat and bid farewell to you. Maybe you didn’t see what you were losing, but the moment you cut the call, I collapsed crashing on the ground – the same room where we spoke for hours and laughed on silly jokes, the same room where we shared intimate conversations and imagined holding each other’s perspiring bodies, the same room where we shared our very first conversation and, perhaps, the very last one.

I really don’t know what I was to you, but I know what you were to me – you were my drug. No, not the one you get dependent on or addicted to, but the one that can replace all the drugs that you ever have to depend upon to get rid of your anxieties and illnesses. Maybe the intensity of my love scared you, but it was only because you were my last love… you will always be my last love. Before giving up on love, I thought to give it another chance – you proved in its existence, even though it remained only for a while. I would never forget the look of your face when we met for the first time; I would never forget the curve of your eyes whenever you sneezed and I smilingly said ‘bless you…’; I would never forget the way your slender fingers moved on the texture of different objects; I would never forget the huskiness in your voice whenever you blushed and told me to stop the ‘eye-game’ I usually played to turn you on (I am blushing through my tears remembering this); I would never forget the late night conversations we silently shared under our respective blankets, even though we felt each other so close. Whenever I remember our silly jokes, I smile through the tears in my eyes. It is so strange that we made love through words, but could barely hug each other in person. If given the opportunity to rule the world or hold you close to me for a few moments, I would always choose the latter, even if I was told to donate the last drop of the blood in my body for you, I would do it with a smile on my face, knowing that it was entering into the veins of someone to whom I belong.

Would it be wrong if I said that I press my mouth close under the shower and cry because my mornings are not the same without your good morning notes? Would it be wrong if I said I wet my pillow with my tears before sleeping at nights because the nights are not same without the feelings you passed to me to comfort me?

Just like I had no idea about how to begin this letter, I have no idea about how to end it, but just like our bond did, this has to end too. I am not too sure about what you lost, or whether my absence affected you even a single percent, but with you, I lost my real smiles, the glow of my face, the shine of my eyes and the very last love of my life. I know I am way too spiritual and impractical for you and you are way too materialistic and practical for me, but I now also know why they always said that ‘opposites attract.’ No matter where I go or what I do, you are always at the back of my mind, dancing at the rhythm of my heartbeats and I promise you this – it will never change – I’ll never change.

Whether you read this or not, whether you believe it or not, I will forever be yours; I will forever love you. I would never beg for you to understand the depth of my love; probably you can’t and I don’t want you to. What I have with me is mine and it will forever be mine. I have loved you enough to not clench you; I have loved you enough to let you go.



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