Writing and Sending

Once we were a world apart, we wrote daily, they were just the usual love letters, but now I see clearly they were statements to affirm we were still here in this wide world, still lonely; making time to physically lift a pen, to write upon old blue air-mail letters, sending them into an unpredictable future. If we had been truthful to love we would have admitted that we knew nothing except this thing named ‘you’. We were a mirage, a hope we had created of love. When we arrived at the same place, we stopped writing and sending. Years later, after the parting, we are again sharing e-mails, again not knowing why.