Letters I Can No Longer Send To You - Part 3

I want to write to you. 

But I know how this correspondence ends.

Sentences laced with honey become tinged with arsenic.

I liked my words better when they were soft like the moonlight.

I liked your words better when they were comforting like the night.

And now, all I have is the harsh sunlight that withers under your late afternoon storms.

I want to write to you.

But I no longer know how to soften the blows of grief that attach themselves to this exchange.

So forgive me, if I do not write to you any longer.

I cannot take much more pain.

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