Postcard

Greetings from Venice!

Dear Mimi. That full stop is there because I don’t mean “dear” by way of an address, as in Sir/Madam. I mean it as darling, love, light of my life. Dear Mimi.

All night we sing and think of you. These musician’s hands you once loved dance in a funereal remembrance of you. I remember how they used to look, my hands. They were perfect when they held yours, tiny in comparison. You never could stretch an octave, but that only made me love you more.

These strings represent my heart. Heartstrings. You didn’t just tug mine; you pulled them right out of my chest and wrapped yourself in them, laughing. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. You were all I wanted.

I used to be blind. With you gone, it was as if somebody flicked the Earth’s on/off switch. The sun withered. The land was dark. Without you I feared I’d never see again. But then, I sang of you, and a seed of bravery planted itself in my heart. Where you once were. It grew and grew, slowly, gradually, unfurling and pushing its way out of the dark, cavernous depths of my ribcage.

I arrived, and I saw you in everything. Every landmark, every plant, every paving stone. I sang, and my heart sang of you. This place shines, all over, with the light from your smile.

I will sing of you again tonight, Mimi, my lovely saviour. I’ve kept my nails short all this time, so that my guitar and I can sing for you.

All my love.

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Another creative writing, it didn't really have much to do with the actual exercise that was set! Venice, because I had Venice written on my hand. I've no idea where the rest of it came from. The name Mimi just popped into my head and then my hand wrote the rest...