Dear Island

Dear Island,
I’m writing this now – without any intention of pressing ‘send’ – in the somewhat deluded hope that, at some stage in the future, I will stumble across these words and share them with you. In my mind’s eye, you’re smiling as I read out this confession (well, more a sort of one-sided dry smile / borderline sneer) and your eyes are darting around in a way that suggests you always knew I was that little bit crazy. But you’ve grown to love me for it anyway.
I hope we’re on a sofa; not actively snuggling, but cosy never-the-less (I don’t think you and I are the snuggy-bunny sorts). That being said, I’m probably still finding any excuse to paw your upper arms; I did enjoy the way they wrapped around my body.
Since the island, you’ve taken a while remembering who you are; but you’re getting there now and, even though you’ll never be the same as the man I met all those moons ago, you’ve still got that sparkle in your eyes. And, without a shadow of a doubt, I know our future will be full of laughter. If we have one.
It’s strange. I’m not the type to fall in love at first sight. (Well, I was when I was twenty-one but the best part of a decade has taught me a thing or two about love. And about falling. As such, I’m a little… well, I’m no longer the type…). But with you. The minute I met you, I felt so content in my own skin. You called me a penis in the space of fifteen minutes and you told me to shut up before the second drink. That was it. Mind made. I want you.
Past tense.
I wanted you in my life.
I knew about the island, of course. Perhaps that’s why I wanted you so badly – because I couldn’t have you. Freud said a shitload about that but now’s not the time.
It’s a year, not a lifetime, I used to think. If we’re meant to be, we will. And I sent out a silent plea when you looked into my eyes for that last time; don’t forget my name. But by the time I was done choking on my thoughts, you’d already kissed my forehead and had turned away. That was the morning I watched you disappear.
I should have told you.
So I’ll tell you now.
No, not ‘I love you’. I hardly know you.
How about –
I can imagine waking up next to you every morning.
I can imagine loving you.
If you’re here – know that I always knew you would be.
If you’re not  –

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