“I would ask the birds to sing about your beauty if I could, because only in their sweet serenades could you be true. You are the sunrise, so full of hope that your soul glows, sparkling like a disco ball, through your eyes and through your words. But you will never get to hear me say these words to you, though your ears deserve nothing less than the truth of my prettiest syllables. I am leaving. Even before we have begun to blossom, my autumn has come. Two years they say, maybe more, before I can see your sweet face again, or touch your velvet skin. I can hear your heart beating in bed next to me. I can feel the pulse of your body on the sheets. My every fibre tells me to wake you, to say these words to your loving smile, but, my love, you should see you sleeping. I haven’t the heart to break you from your euphoric dreams.
I used to be afraid of going to war, but not anymore. Not now.
Always and forever, in this life or the next.”
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