I know I was only a whisper,
mixed with the sounds of the wind.
But I was hoping you’d hear my voice,
as yours was the only voice I listened to.
I’m sorry if you read these too late,
but know that it’s okay.
I’ll be gone by the time you no longer feel it,
the soft emptiness irritating you,
an emptiness you’re not quiet sure why.
I’m hoping you’d see these notes in time,
in case you can stop me before I leave.
But I know deep down,
that you’ll only romanticise them,
thinking they were only abstract,
meant for no one.
Before I go,
know that I wanted to leave three little words,
words too difficult to say without fear.
So I leave this,
encryptions in notes that may never reach you.