It is a full moon and I wait for you to show up. You swore you'd never come and yet every full moon, I can sense your nearness. It taunts me, tortures me and yet I always come back, asking for more. Others pass by, their intense eyes baring my very soul, but it has never been that which I look for. Forever would I remember your honey colored eyes that offer comfort and solice, that invites me to look deep within you, only to see my own reflection. It has been seven years my darling, and although others no longer believe in your existence, my immortality never allows that morbid thought. I have written you a thousand letters, and this one would be the one after the thousand. You told me to forget you after the thousandth letter, that there would be no hope after the thousandth letter and no way you could return. I leave this letter in the same place I have left the thousand before it, and like every other time, I shall come and find it gone. Was it you that took them or someone who desires nothing else but to torture me?
I read the letter you left me the last time we met, I read it over and over again. You left because of your evil nature, you wrote, but you didn't give me the choice to make. I can sense you lurking around as the point of my ink-ridden feather scratches the paper and I know you can hear my breath, as I sigh, as I weep, as I hope and as I love. There is nothing to wait for, but you, there is nothing to do, but wait for you and there's nothing left, but your appearance. So, my sweet, come back to me.The deepest of wrongs that you have committed can not repulse me, nor the shallowest of good; I care for nothing, but your return. I have written you a thousand letters and I will write a million more, because, my love, I have nothing but time.