Dear Jane

Dear Jane,

Why did you leave me?

I would’ve given you more than I’ve given anyone. Even as just my friend and confidant, I had given you more than I had given anyone, gladly and freely. I am in pain now and I know you haven’t truly read hardly anything of mine in a long time, I’m sure. I can’t even see your art anymore, except in my old posted letters you sent me.

Most of the poems and letters I’ve sent you, it seems are unread and lost to the wind.

I still meant every word I ever wrote to you, and I mean it all now.

Why did you go? Why now when the days stretch out longer and kill my heart?

When the sun beams are out to seek me when I want to hide?

Oh Jane, why did you have to go?

Love,

Edward