Letters to Major (7)

Dear Major,

Today the saddest thing happened to this poor woman. The love of her life was buried and she wanted to be buried with it.

His face looked peaceful, as much as possible, underneath his scars. He fought hard and War, Pestilence, Famine and Death were all there and they had the smuggest look on their faces – they did this, they caused this pain. He did it too, by following these four horsemen, leaving her behind.

She hug him trying to spark life back into his eyes; it was in vain. She kissed his cold lips, but he didn’t kiss her back. She ruffled his golden hair so she could see his hopeful eyes and a cheeky smile, but that was not meant to be.

Wherever the casket went, she followed glued to it. When it was time to close the casket, the pain in her sobs could have woken up any dead – except him. She saw the casket being lowered to the ground, but saying goodbye knocked the life out of her. The earth covered him and… he was gone.

He was not coming back for any more lovemaking or any more jokes. The life with children and a white picket fence will never happen. Growing old and grey together will always be just wishful thinking. All because he didn’t stay behind, with her.

Love of my life, I wanted to die with you. You will never read this letter and will never fulfil your promise of coming back to me. You will never experience my love, anger, fear, confusion and deep grief; it wasn’t me who died, it was you. You promised you would come back to me; surely you didn’t mean dead...

I tried to memorise everything I could about you, but I am afraid I failed. Already I am struggling to remember your smell, or how your kisses felt like. Was your beard dark or did it have a mix of brown, ginger and gold in it? I can’t remember how happy I was in your arms anymore and you will never be able to remind me of it again.

What am I supposed to do with all the love I have inside my heart with your name on it? What am I supposed to do with the happy memories and your gifts? How am I supposed to pretend life goes on when you are not here? Birds shan’t sing and children must be forbidden to play on such occasion!

This amount of hurt should have killed me by now – why hasn’t it? God, please, take me to my love; he misses me and I him.

I know you would say I am stronger than I think I am, and I can move on. You would say you want me to be happy and that I will – my love, fuck you. I want you and your strong arms and your ability to make me laugh at stupid things. But I can’t have what I want anymore and I am at loss. Why wasn’t I strong enough or enough for you to stay with me?

I… I love you. Don’t make me say it…

Goodbye.

Yours, Always.

Alexandra.

Letters to Major (6)

Dear Major,

Your distance is no longer just physical. Your letters are lesser and lesser, your soul is less in them too. My love, this causes me more pain and anger than ever before.

Run away from War, and you might see what I see… But I don’t think you will, you think of yourself as brave. You think you’re helping, you think War makes you better and stronger; I think it makes you less you. I know you will see it until the end, but how about us? How about the happy ending you promised me?

I have told you this before, that I love you for you if you love me for me. But I feel it in my heart, War stripped you away of your youth and innocence and of the goodness in you. You never felt bloodshed was a good thing before; now, your letters show a darkness I hadn’t seen before. I feel in your distance that the change brought in you by the War is for the worse. Above all, I feel your love has lessened because of it. My Major, is this darkness stronger than our love? Please fight it, get back into our light.

Let the good memories shine through. No other woman has loved you so, has care so much for you. No other woman will, because you were mine as much as I was yours. You have always been the Yang to my Yin; your smile brings me up, my seriousness balances you. When I cry, you make me laugh with your inner child; when you need to be serious, I show you the way. We are not perfect people, but we are perfect for each other.

My love, today was just a hard day. Two years ago we were in my beautiful hometown, having the time of your lives and we were at our happiest. I miss you, I miss us. Come home, please.

Yours, always,

Alexandra

Letters to Major (5)

Dear Major,
I'm sorry to read you hurt yourself. Remember you don't break your promises and you promised you'd come back to me. Please take it easy and avoid hurting yourself further.
My friends tell me their men find solace in prostitutes and escorts. I'm sorry for mentioning this but now I can't help but get jealous some other woman, someone who doesn't know you or loves you like I do, gets to be in your arms. Apologies for assuming the worst, I know this is wrong of me, but I am selfish and I don't want to think of another woman being in your arms while you're with War. It's bad enough you were noble enough to sacrifice yourself for War, but I just can't bear the thought... I'm sorry for my jealousy, that is what I fear the most. You are meant to come back to me, you know? And then I'll show you the love of a woman. I count the minutes until War is done with and you come back to me.
I miss your voice. It was my own personal lullaby and your warm body my human blanket. Waking up without your morning kisses is like missing my life nourishment. Your perfume was my coffee; addictive, perfect, awakening happiness.
The more you're away, the harder it is for me. I just... Feel the hole in my chest growing bigger and more painful than ever and I find it hard to breathe at times. You're the brave one and I the coward. I'm just afraid of losing my better self, my better half, my best friend. Please keep writing so I know you are doing well.

Yours, always,
Alexandra

Letters to Major (4)

 Dear Major

It’s Christmas and I have two clichés stuck in my head: 1) Home is where the heart is; 2) Christmas is meant to be spent with family.

Number 1 you know my heart is with you. You may be with War, but my heart is with you. My love, I say this to bring you hope too – the hope you come back to me. Either by War finishing it’s dealings with you or by you realizing War is evil, poisonous and treacherous. Without meaning to sound like a broken record; come back home, please.

Now, number 2 is tricky. I am with my family but truth is, you’re my family too. After spending a few Christmas away from my family and welcomed into yours, I’m sure you must find me silly but (and I think you know this, I might have mentioned a couple of times) I have come to see your family as my own.

I can hear you mumble in your breath “Woman, you keep complaining you missed your family at Christmas”, but your family and your Christmas was the closest I had, in the last few years, to my definition of Christmas growing up; your large family and the stacks of presents on the tree is how I remember Christmas. Above all, I enjoyed how your family gathered and was united. I enjoyed your younger sisters and you smiling like children with your presents, I loved how we visited your cousins and their children (and my own little stack of chocolates… never enough chocolate right?)

My Christmas is only me and mum and grandparents. The witch spoils it further by saddening my brother and preventing him from being around. He hasn’t seen me yet and I am unsure he will… So, and adding my heart being with you, I don’t feel the joy of Christmas as much as I did when I spent it with your family. It’s different and I can only wish we get our families together at some point – wouldn’t it be grand?

I’m sorry, I know I am being selfish. You are away as it is… too far away, fighting a War I resolutely don’t think it’s yours; I don’t recognize you in it. Promise me you are warm and safe, as much as you can be, yes? And lets wish next year we are celebrating together once more.

Yours, always,

Alexandra

Ps. I spent all day cooking, chopping potatoes and fruit and making sweets. My wrist is a bit sore, apologies for the trembling handwriting. It’s delicious!

I am the fool

I am a queen, sitting on my throne
Judging fairly and ruling fiercely.
A jester, looking acne prone,
Dares to demand my attention

"M'lady", he says
"I have a magic trick to show you"

And steals the heart on my sleeve.
I was in disbelief!
How dare he?

The heart was big and worn
and a bit fragile.
(It fit me a bit tightly but was mine
Made of glass and dreams, you see)
The jester was gentle
Played, swirled it, and was agile.

Played for a while and
sometimes held too tightly.
Until his friends joined him in the fun.
Then it really became dangerous
but  Ah, the fool was I.
His friends mocked and
were treasonous in the jokes
So he boldly smashed my heart the floor,
and stepped on the pieces.

I let him play with it for too long.
Perhaps his friends distracted him
or maybe it was purposeful, because they stepped in it too.
And now, a queen fell on the floor.

But the jester forgot, I am a queen
"Guards, off with their heads!"
And I held my head up high.
Trust no one, I will remember
"But first, guards, you may dismember"

Letters to Major (3)

 Dear Major,

The moon has completed a rotation around the Earth since I last saw you. Since I saw you leave, unsure you would return. I can only hope, and pray, you are ok.

My feelings about War have not changed; I am sad you chose War over me. I know the appeal of War manipulated you, and I know it will change you, poison you… I have faith you won’t let it, but I really don’t trust or like War. War has poisoned many good men before, with promises of glory - but War is lies and deceit (both sides always think they are right, don’t they? But only the victorious write history, even if inaccurate). My love, promise me you will remain strong; promise you will return to me, the same Major who charmed my family by making me smile and laugh like the fools in love we were.

I can’t bring myself to tell my family you left. They would judge me, say I can’t hold a man, that I am not a woman. So, when they ask about you, I just say you are doing well and couldn’t come. I think my granddad knows; he said to me “Child, you look sad, what is wrong?” and I happily blamed tiredness instead of admitting I am empty vessel without you. They really care about you, and talk about you constantly. It’s exhausting having this pretend face, it will be easier when we come back together.

Busy Major, tell me about you. I will patiently await your responses, with hopes of your return. I long for a good night sleep in your strong arms, or a good stretch when I have to kiss you.

Yours, always,

Alexandra.

Letters to Majors (2)

Dear Major

Thank you, my love, for your letters. I know War makes it hard for you to write to me, but I feel special you have kept me in your life. I wish they would feed you better, but I’m happy to know you find some solace with your companions.

I decided to stay away from Hampshire for a while. I ran home, to have my mother’s food, my grandparents love and my cat’s cuddles. My dog wags his tail at the mention of you, he misses you as much as I do.

As you know, being home isn’t easy. Everything is still upside down, with my brother ignoring the family for that witch. My poor mother has caught me up in all the gossip, and the vast majority is bad news. I didn’t have the heart to tell my family you’re at war; they would say I wasn’t woman enough to keep you from it. It’s hard enough to miss you as it is… So, I just pretend everything is the same. I try to ignore the picture of us with my parents; I must be stronger than I tell you in these letters.

I have something embarrassing to tell you. You’ll laugh but also share the longing. I had a sex dream about you; I dreamt you were back, dropping off your stuff before coming to see me and I happened to be nearby. I saw you and you just swopped me off my feet into your bed… we made love as passionately as ever, and as loudly as when we took our first holiday together (remember the rural hotel and its thick stony walls?). We couldn’t look your neighbours in the eye when we finally decided to leave your room… I woke up and reached for you before remembering I was in my single bed at home.

Do you think of me the same? Or does the War have all of you? Please don’t lose yourself in it, come back to me as the Major I love. In return, I’ll keep being the Alexandra you love. (Much like the Pablo Neruda poem I showed you, “(…) my love feeds on your love, beloved,/ and as long as you live it will be in your arms/ without leaving mine."

I wait for your letters fervently; for the proof you, my Major, lives.

Yours, always,

Alexandra

Letters to Major

Dear Major,

My love, I miss you so. It’s been 3 weeks since you left for war and my heart aches for you. I know you write back to me and are well, but I just want you back here.

Some of my friends, who also write to their boyfriends and husbands, have been preparing to move on in case they don’t come back. They go dancing with strange men and drink. They say it’s healthier… they say the heart won’t forget who they love but it helps dull the pain. At least they have a warm body next to them and someone to have fun with. I… can’t.

Men buy me drinks and talk to me. Oh, but Major, they don’t have your spark. They just don’t make me laugh like you do. They try to kiss me and I… just can’t bear their touch, because it’s not your rugged hands across my cheek or your soft lips on mine. They don’t have your adorable smile or your patient eyes; above all, they are not you.

I know you would understand if I did what they do… But I don’t want anyone else but you. Even the idea of it feels dirty and wrong. Like I am disrespecting our memories and our love. Remember when we first called each other boyfriend and girlfriend? We were going to Oxford for the day and I said “How should I introduce you?”, shyly, and you suggested “Well, I don’t know. I know I am not seeing anyone else, so how about boyfriend?”. I liked how certain you were about me… and how your “I love you” surprised me later that day. I wasn’t expecting that.

War is a terrible mistress because she doesn’t share; darling, just come back to me. My bed asks about you, about when you’ll be back to caress my back or when she can listen to your heartbeat again. I want your body next to mine. I want to make love to you. I love how when we make love, you look me in the eye and fervently whisper “Mine”. I am yours and you are mine in that moment, and I am home, safe and warm and loved.

I am certain about you still, even when you are miles away, that I love you too and don’t want to see anyone else. Desert war for me, let’s run away?

Yours, always,

Alexandra.

Ps. I’m sorry about all the tear stains. But I am not sorry to feel the way I feel. See you soon?

There it is, the silence

Of a windless cloudy night

Where everything is pitch-black

And full of scary things.

There is it, the silence

Of an extinguished fire

It knows it won’t ignite Itself, 

anymore.

There it is, the silence

In rooms in Hampshire

Of people sleeping in the dark

But awake in their nightmares.

There is it, the silence

Of a broken heart.

Wanting to take back time

Wishing to be anywhere.

[let's count this as incomplete. I don't know what to make of it]

Changes

Hello, old acquaintace

Fancy seeing you here

We both went through change

So much of me has disappeared

Isn’t this strange?

I am not who you remember

(And you’re not a friend)

No, I now am different

I am a woman, old and frail.

Only memories of youth,

Memories of an intact mirror…

Yes, only they prevail.

Yes, turn your back

Forget you ever knew me and sneer

I break mirrors, I don’t recognise myself

Why should you?

See in the shards of glass

My naked skin shine

Let it, let it

This is me now.

They say “this too shall pass”

They don’t understand

Being old sticks with you.

It’s like Death: Crude and bold.

You don’t worry, but I am fine.