Dear Dash,
I have quite given you up, haven't I? Those own spaces, them pertinent three dots and the complete lack of your compatriot punctuation marks...frankly, my infatuation led me to start to stop(s). It is not that I have forgotten you or about you...how else would I be writing this, otherwise? Nor is it an apologetic confession of not being with you, as fluid as tears do.
You packed my life with so many blanks and so much blankness that it is good I can do without you now for a while. Gives me a sense of being in a rucksack. Compact, and comfortable. I have loved you though, madly. And I still smile when I think of you. Of how you were an essential composite of my character. Blanks are necessary in the making of a whole, and I will always be grateful that you were heavily, and you slightly are...
Dash, you haven't forgotten our togetherness, right? You were part of my growing up, the impressions I have formed, the dreams I have weaved, the letters left unwritten...I could begin this series of letters only with you, because there is a strange sense of bond I feel with you - unknown, unrecognised, unspoken. The bond of the slave and the master, the captive and the wall, the love and the beloved...and yet to let go...
Someday I will write again to you, Dash. Till such time, you can count the uncountable times dash has been applied here...for I may have quite given you up, but I haven't quite given up on you...
With you in my heart, away from me,
K.
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