When I read the letter, I knew that there was no hope.
Not even Santa could help me now.
She was gone forever.
I knew that proposing probably would have been the best idea. I knew it.
I was just too scared. Scared of rejection.
Scared of not getting rejected.
If we got married, that was it. I didn’t know if I was ready for marriage. So I waited.
To see if she was the one. But then she left me.
Now I’m dying, like the embers of a fire.
That’s me.
The charred remains of what once was.