about
If I am in drifts over a foot deep here in the city, will this even reach you in your remote corner of the globe?
I have never sent a letter before, not one where I actively prayed for it to be lost in the mail.
Have you ever just put yourself in the hands of fate, or God, or chance? Whatever it is that you believe in, that I do not, that is the power that I place this message in.
Matthew. Matthew, come now. Are you frozen? Are you well?
I’m sure you are. You’re a survivor, aren’t you? You always knew how to find a place to hide, even in the coldest nights here. You could always find sanctuary, even when the rest of us had to compromise our morals to keep warm for a night.
Is that why you went north? That’s it, isn’t it? You left our city to find some antiquated notion of purity.
I hate you, Matthew.
I’ve had enough now.
Come back.
This city misses you, you know. Everything here is somber since you left, and I don’t think it’s just because of the winter drifts.
God damn it. You complete and utter bastard. The city needs you, but I need you more. This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Some “absence makes the heart go fonder” shit, wasn’t it?
I want to say that I didn’t fall for it. For once, I didn’t succumb to your gravity. Just this once, I was my own person.
Matthew, the things I’ve done, since you’ve been gone. You would be proud. You would be jealous. But you can’t appreciate them, not isolated where you are.
Nothing is created in a vacuum. I wish it could be.
I dreamed of us, last night. We took a caravan across the country. We got lost, hopelessly so.
It was brilliant.
You.
You should have been here when I woke up.
credits
from
four,
released March 11, 2014
Music - Andrew Cote
Words - from "Ten Winter Letters" by Tucker Cummings
license