The Artist
Dear Annabelle,
It has been hard. I hate that I can not hear your soft sweet voice anymore. Our "home". God, shall I even be able to call it that? It does not feel like a home anymore. This house is empty without you. I am only left with the memories of happiness and despair. These memories we made together. They haunt me. A past where I was happy. Where you were my motivation to paint. The living room should be transform into a cemetery, since you brought the room alive. Our bedroom should be transform into a confession room. It was where we displayed all our secrets and dreams. My dreams were to forever hold you. Not the soul of absent body. Trust me I have tried to live in this broken house. Only because it is the place that I can remember your smiling face. That smiling face and sky blue eye. It keeps me bound to this house of memories and blurred vision. As night draws near. I try to find sleep as I wrap my arms around your ghost. But my hands only phase through, leading darkness to find a new playground within me. I'm sorry my love, please forgive me and become my home again.
Love, your artist.