...which, were not written out of love, but the ink spent in placing words fooled me that I did felt like it was about to come. That you were special enough to even be associated with such languid language and amorous affirmations.

These were letters you never received, only because I was unsure even when you offered your heart and the world. Uncertainty turned to be true. Uncertainty turned to be disappointing. Uncertainty that kept me from bartering my heart with yours too soon, you who proclaimed to the world was sure with me and that stars aligned to bring you my way. The very same stars that drifted me away from you.

These were letters written in light blush-colored paper with stark, inky black pen professing the softest of my being you turned me to when I was with you.

One letter I wrote mentioned how happy you made me in the longest time. That you were this dreamy knight who offered only affection and laughter. A towering figure I'd look up and adore, just before you'd kiss me in the forehead. A soft voice that assured will never hurt me nor make me cry.

One letter I wrote was on the day you suddenly bickered at me out of nowhere and had to say those things that brought me to tears, as if you were the very monster I feared. How I still wanted to calm you down when you burned the bridges even further, making me feel I was farther away from you--and it was the right thing to stay so.

I've had history wasting the best of word constructions I could ever write to the worst boy who only knew how to crumple paper. I had a past of burning up letters as I watch them turn into ashes after a few seconds, as if I never spent sleepless nights on how to make these letters encapsulate how I truly felt.

Your words showed how you were vexed, a soul that was seething. How were you the same person who only had lovely things to say and I felt that I could map out the most beautiful of texts from my soul's literature? 

I guess...you'll be the last of the letters I rarely made in this lifetime until possibly someone else comes along and actually feels my heart in my handwriting. I tell you the letters I tried to keep as the girl who did not want to be kept by you. Never will you have that knowledge of how much you possessed my heart which at one point, only wanted to paint its feelings with words that the universe kept me from saying to you.

These were words you will never read and feelings I will never orally say back to you.