A Letter, Never Sent

This is a letter that will never be sent. This is a letter I might as well write in the sand; I might as well write it in smoke.

You will never hear my voice again.

You will never spark with a bubbling laugh and spread your arms wide to hug me, your hair scented sweetly with clove cigarettes. You will never ever listen to another song with me and consider the warm melancholy of a dark-haired boy's voice. You will never shudder with joy, digging your fingers into the grass, in the summerwhite sun. Your grief will never fall into step with mine again and we will not weep together until a rushing river runs from our tears.

You have betrayed me, and your name will never again pass my lips without a taint of blood and earth.

I hope your grave is a comfort to you.