Dear John Carl Vincent,

I've been missing you, great sir.
You've weighed heavily on my mind lately. My heart was tugging at me to grab a pen.
Let me not fill your ears with banter --
for I dont have very many things to say.
However, seeing as my heart was once yours,
I'm hoping you could spare a moment to hear it.

I was just thinking of that time last week --
you may recall, 'twas the most recent time we'd seen eachother. At church, on Sunday morning.
It was the first time in one week that I had seen you without a hospital band around your wrist
and you sitting comfortably, yet painfully, on a hospital bed.

But, ah -- I just wanted to let you know how grateful I was to see you there, on Sunday.
You looked well. Healthy. Almost happy, maybe.
The way you stood up straight, the way your eyes glisened in the light;
It reminded me of a few things,
which has lead me to bring up some things, lovely gentleman...

You see ...
a lot has happened over this past year, plus a week, plus a couple of days.
And a lot has changed. Mainly, with you and with I. Seperately, of course.

It astounds me, sometimes.
I can't seem to look back and think it had ever happened,
but then I am reminded that I must, because, well,
I can't just let the worst day of my life not affect me whatsoever.
I can't just let the fact that I lost you not touch my heart in any sense.

But, moving on...

No matter what has occured this past year plus a week plus a couple of days,
a few things have still remained quiet in my mind.
I've avoided them for a while.

I mean, what was the point? Why would I bother?
I found no reason to speak of what was left after our foundation cracked.
That was one sad day in history, I must add -- at least for me.
To know what was going on in your head,
I would pay more than my morgage debt.

It wasn't until you fell ill that these things decided to scream at me,
telling me that it was time for you to finally learn all of the things I've hidden from you.
To be completely honest, I hid them for a reason, and the reason is simple --

I didn't know that you cared to listen.

It wasn't until you spoke to me not too long ago, the utter words I can never erase, that changed my mind:
"You are always going to be dear to my life, my existance is yours as well as mine."
Then I'd thought, Oh, that's right... we used to be the best of friends.

And I could tell you everything.
In fact, I did. All the time,
about everything I possibly could.
Because you would always listen.
My own voice inside my own head reminded me of that.

But I still have my doubts because I'd remembered of the little parasite who keeps latching onto us --
her.
And it was on that same Sunday when I'd seen you feeling better,
my memory of her came back, as well as these things stated above.

And I'd seen Valerie there, with you.
She kissed your face.

My own voice was yelling at me again.
All of the emotions were still as raw as ever,
and the memories were still so bitter.
I remember the moments when you may as well have been in the hospital,
fatigued and bedridden,
because your heart was just so broken.
And I still cannot forget, yet everyone else can, the reason...
The person...

If I'd learned anything my entire life, it has been who Valerie Georgette Lynn is.
Why she does the things that she does? I have another lifetime to figure out.

I seem to be getting sidetracked.
Forgive me, my dear friend.
It seems that no matter what my mouth has spoken,
it has not exactly been what is lying on my heart.
It certainly has not been what is constantly being screamed in my ears.

Dear John, sweet John.
That time back in April, we both lost a lot of things.
You lost your dreams, and your aspiration to sing.
You forgot how to minister because you lost your job.
And you couldn't reach out your hand because it was dirty,
I constantly curse myself for throwing mud on your fists.

But no matter what was lost or taken away from me,
whether it was the trust of my family, the respect of my church,
the bonds with my friends, the regrets engraved in me;
my heart did indeed bleed, although not for these things.

I'd broken so much.
Was left with so little.
I had nothing but my expensive vases
shattered in my lap.
But not even the newly found disrespect,
expectations,
loss of trustworthiness,
or disappointment had broken my heart.

What left me
so hurt
so lost
so full of pain
was
losing
you.

Not being able to see your face.
Not being able to hear your voice.
Not being able to gaze in your eyes.
Not being able to love you completely.
That, dear friend... that was what slaughtered me.

I remember not being able to bear the thought of not having you.
But I didn't have to. Because I'd lost you, and it was real. Not a dream, nor a nightmare.
Reality.

And it killed me. Completely. Abruptly. Shattered. Alone. Lost.

Without you, I had no muse or reason; no life and no air.
I have no idea how I'd made that year, one week, and a couple of days
without being able to be there for you.

So much could've happened,
yet I could awake saying to myself,
"I hope Mr. Vincent had a lovely evening."

So much I could've gained or been granted,
yet I would still think in my head,
"I hope John Vincent recieved his raise today.
He's worked so hard..."

But you falling ill may've been the best thing that ever happened to me.
No matter who was in my way, authority or parental, friends or enemies,
that stupid girl back in your highschool hallway,
nobody could keep you away from me.
Your heart called me from afar, and I heard it, and ran after you.

Being able to see your face.
Being able to hear your voice.
Being able to give you love again.
It was like being rebourn.

Fertile soil in a dead field.
Fresh water in a dried up garden.
I was alive.
But I thought you wouldn't be.

I'd wept for days prior to that Sunday, the one I spoke of eariler.
Someone told me you were going to die.
(Silly woman...)
And finding that out only reminded me
of that time back last spring
when I no longer had you.

I fell apart.

Tears had flowed like waterfalls. I wondered how long it would take
before my tearducts would run dry. Everytime I thought they were,
I was taken aback with another ocean flowing off my eyelashes.

I couldn't go through that again, God Forbid it be true.
The thought of losing you, again...

And it broke my heart when I looked upon
your pale, pained face in that hospital room
with a back feeling broken and a chest feeling shot.
I wanted to do so much, in attempts to make you well.
But I know deep inside, I could not resurrect you.
That is how I lost you in the first place.

But you see, this is where I am now. This is where these events have lead me.
When I saw you at church, I had not kissed your face.
I'd left you a kiss on the top of your forehead,
saying my goodbye's, for I would see you next week.
And I could've layed my lips upon your cheek,
your hand, maybe, if I was a man and you were a lady.
However, I thought of that girl who'd layed one on you last --
and I thought...

I know I care of you more than she,
more than anyone.
You should know that.

But you don't. Not yet, not completely.
But... I intend on showing you.

I'll admit, I'd done this all wrong at first.
I'd kissed you on the face to try to show you I adored you.
I'd hug your neck to whisper secrets in your ear.
And the same feelings still remain...

but instead, I want to hug your waist. I want to kiss the top of your head.
I want to sing lullabies into your ear and tuck you in at night.
I want to keep you in my arms and give care to you.

I want to be there for you again.
I want to be able to give love to you again.
I want to be able to speak of what comes from my soul again.

But I know that it will take so much time...
yet it seems I have found no reason
nor do I find any feeling in trying to compete
with anyone who may stumble along your way.

I can only wait. And exist for you.
Do what you want of me to do,
and I can not and will not
"Arouse or awaken love
until it so do desires."
There is a song that's inside of my soul,
it's burning to seep into your ears.
But not yet, Mr. Vincent. Not yet, my sweet love.
Someday... and I will wait until you long to hear it.
Straight from my heart and right out of my being;
you shall hear every hidden truth inside of me.

So, Mr. Vincent...
did you recieve that raise?
Did you have a lovely evening?

Love always,
Cecilia Caroline Devon