My last words to you

So, this is it...the last page of the book. The last entry in our journal...the last letter to you. 

From this moment on, I will no longer have a valid reason to write to you. And it is in this practical, yet, emotionless fashion that the idiotic and shameless characters that I now type are forever condemned to be the last words that I ever say to you. Equally punishing to them is the miserable truth that regardless of their structure, content, richness, or poetic value, they will mean absolutely nothing to you; and yet I am compelled, despite my ego and better judgement, to deliver them via this message to the abyss of nothingness where they will surely find a quick and senseless death.

If only this words were meaningless to me too, I could rescue them from their eminent demise and write absolutely nothing and let the silence of a pretended indifference speak for me...for both of us. But this story does not deserve that type of ending, at least not to this man. So, I must say my piece and make my peace and here is the irony of my predicament - though I am compelled to address you for the last time I find it extremely difficult to summon the right words, those last words that will resonate with you and are true to the mark you left behind.

How do I give into the idea that from this very instant we will be two strangers? Having watched the bridge collapsed behind me, I have no other choice but to pick up what I can salvage and move forward.

Among the items that I'll rescue will be your smile which I will take with me as it sleeps in my memory, those one day trips you so much enjoyed while we explore the land of the rising sun, the first night you danced in my living room to a Mariah Carey Christmas song and the way you slept beside me night after night.

I know you did not hold anything back, that you gave me the best of you at the time and you must know that I will be forever grateful for it; not because it was your best, but because you gave it to me without any reservation. I am sorry for those times I failed you, when overcome by emotions I oppressed you when I should have held you in my arms. I could have been a better man - lesson learned. I am sorry that life got in the way, stealing from me the chance to make it right by you.

And this is how it ends, we go our separate ways. I wish you the best, truly. Whatever you do and wherever you go, whether near or far or in between, may your road be paved with joy and cookies. Years will now fall like dry leaves off the ancient tree of time and that archived smile of yours, full of the clarity of dawn, will be covered by the growing shadow of memories later to be consume by the Alzheimer's of time and the day will inevitably come when we both see eye to eye while crossing the street without recognizing one another.

Oh! It is done! I have now reached the end of this cogitation with a deep realization and along with it my testimony's epitaph and last words to you. Karl Marx once said 'last words are for fools who have not said enough.' - if you ask me, he was a fool who never loved enough: You mattered...You mattered to me.