Aa. I don't think that I've ever said this, but I'd like to think you knew. In those strange, strange years, when nothing made sense. What this was, to me.

I loved the poetry in you, and I loved what it brought out in me. And I think I always will; half of it real, half of it imaginary... I hardly knew you, you hardly knew me. At least not in the common ways people think of, really. But it was so comforting. I want you to know this. I hope that you'll read this. Perhaps my final words. And wherever you are, I desperately hope that you are happy.