undeliverable camille held for ransom perhaps my mail 070619 ... mailer daemon FAILURE NOTICE 070619 ... pSyche I cried when my email came back. You hadn't spoken to me in two years; I hadn't spoken with you in one. I just needed a sense of closure, and I guess those emails for that first year really pissed you off. You were my first love, and I still can't let you go, you bastard. When I sit across the table from another man, another boy, I can't help but feel as if I'd like to run. There's still not a date I've been on where I haven't thought idly of how much more beautiful this would seem if you were here. I fear you've stolen a bit of me that I'll never get back. I was young, and maybe all those empty and unreturned letters I wrote to you merely built all the more your beauty up within my mind. Though the more abundantly I love you, the less I be loved. I still can't help but love you, darling. This boy I know, he says he loves me, but it only makes me think of you. You and your amber hair, your ivory skin, and those eyes darker than space itself- and oh! how much I said I loved you. It wasn't enough to keep you though. Maybe my message of love never got through. Maybe it bumped into that barrier that is your brain, and you fled, fled before your bounding heart got wounded by a child's arrows. I have to wonder If you, if this boy, If you both are just like every man. If all you will do is tell me what I want to hear, until I fall in love.... and then... disappear. I love you always. And I will hold this message in my heart until one day, I can give it you. 070619 what's it to you? who go blather from