A letter

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Tate - my sunshine, my flowers, my life, my death.

Submitted: July 30, 2016

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Submitted: July 30, 2016



Dear Tate,

So a person dies and what's left? Their soul? And what is that exactly? 
Because some people say that the soul lives on forever. I hope not. Which makes me a cynic. Which makes me a sceptic.
I want you to live forever. I want you to live on in everything beautiful for all of eternity. Because you were beautiful. But I don't want you to have that struggle. I couldn't leave that burden on your shoulders. You aren't Atlas, you don't have to carry the weight of the world.

But you can't. Can you? You're not here anymore and the world is so empty without you in it. One day I hope to find God. I want to make Him cry. I want Him to beg for my forgiveness.

I won't give it.

I want you to come back, even in a dream. If only in a song. 
But nothing dead ever comes back, at least, nothing that I have ever lost. 

Sunflower, I want to let you go. I want to release this chain I have somehow become entangle in, your name carved into each link. I want to know that you are safe, and glowing with the light of every star in the universe deep inside your center. You were so beautiful. I'm still not certain you were fully human. If I can connect your divine features to something holy, maybe I can begin to understand why you were torn from life so early. 

With a heavy heart, I say goodbye. I love you. Always. "You rain on me and I sky you," remember? 
I see you in the stars, and in the sun. I hear you in the breeze and in the waves as they crash against the rocks during a thunderstorm. I feel you in the raindrops as they run down my face. 
I won't forget you, Sunflower. I'll never forget you. How could I?

Love, always 

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