Letter to a distant man (Marcella Boccia)
I write to you,Though you are not here,Not in the space where my breath lingers,Not in the silence that calls your name.Your face is a distant sky—A cloud I chase in the dusk,A horizon I touch only in dreams,As the winds of the past blow me to you,And pull me back to the edge of nowhere.Your voice,Once a song that echoed in my bones,Now fades into the roar of rivers I cannot cross.Yet still, I hear it—soft as the fall of ash,A tremor in the earth,In the spaces where love once lived.I’ve written your name in the scars of my skin,But it disappears,Each time the ink of my memory blurs.Yet, in the corners of my heart,You remain—A shadow stitched into the fabric of my being.I do not ask for you to return.I do not ask for the weight of your absenceTo break me further.I write to you,Not to seek you,But to remind myselfThat even distance cannot erase the hunger,The ache of having known you—For you are both the woundAnd the scar that keeps me alive.And so, in this letter,I leave you as you are,A distant manWho will never know the quiet warThat rages in my soulEvery time I say goodbye.
