Dear Ben,

On my Bible app, I was reminded that God will satisfy my needs in a scorching land and will strengthen my frame. This land is my body and my soul. So I have asked, even if I feel I don't deserve it, for Him to make me whole again.

With you, my body and soul woke up to sensations I have already forgotten. I did not know that your voice would hold me like how a child would want to be held—trusting, longing, and for the first time after a very long time—happy. So when you decided to give me up in exchange for pleasures with all of the other women in your life, I was shattered into pieces. And I did not know exactly how to put myself back in shape again. I just knew that I had to go so I could still keep my integrity and sanity.

I was lost in the promise of your voice. I basked in the light of your words. When you woke up thinking of me in your shower, when you were talking to me even at work, and when you were putting me to sleep when I couldn't.

Your voice has been my lullaby. It has stirred my heart so much that even if I tried to muster all the remaining strength in me, I would still ache for you.

I had to play your voice notes over and over again—the time you said I am so beautiful -- body and soul. And that one, when you said I gave you problems concentrating at work. Those notes, when we shared little naughty and fun times that no man could ever outdo. I never knew why I am still addicted to you!

But I know you want your freedom without my depth. I want my depth with your freedom. I told you I would never cage you. And so, like a little bird, I let you fly.

I guess I just need to write this goodbye letter because it is part of my grieving. I grieve for the love that I gave you that could have been sweet and beautiful. I grieve for the moments you met me where I was. Those times when I battled chronic pain and insomnia. I grieve the time when I said I was sorry if I was needy, and you said you could handle me. (Even if maybe they are not true for you...) Those were powerful words that were like oxygen to me when I needed to just breathe and forget about life's damning truths.

Right now, a new guy has been trying to make me happy. I love what he does. He showed a lot of effort compared to what you did. But how come I still long for you?

How come that he had to work me up for a long time before I could reach the edge? And I had to endure spasms because it was hard to be awakened by him? And why would your face and your voice be like the ones that my brain would look for, so this dam in me would break open?

You shouldn't be inhibiting my thoughts any longer. I want you to stop whispering in my ears when I can't sleep.

As Neruda puts it: Love is too short. And forgetting takes too long.

I know I sound so stupid, still typing these words in tears. You may be with another woman now, reaching your peak so easily and casually. I hoped it was different with me, as you once said. But obviously, we're all the same—an object of your desire that could easily be forgotten as long as there is always someone new.

I am doing this to get the closure I need. I thought Part 3 of the story that I wrote was the end of all my longings for you. I did not even know if you read Part 2; maybe it does not matter to you anymore. I did not dare to ask you again. I don't know if you would even care to read the stories born to me in awe of you.

I do not know how many poems, stories, and songs I could still write with you as my muse. Hopefully, one day, you will stop living in my pen, too. I don't know if this is the last writing that will make me cry. But I pray to God it is the last.

Love may be too short. And forgetting may be too long.

I wish we had gone beyond the sexual level of intimacy—when, even in silence, we knew each other's aches and rushed to each other's comfort and touch. But we have never reached that. I should not be sad. Because in the end, finally, you were real to me. You said your take on where we truly were. Those words cut deep, but I thank you for finally giving me that plain answer. I felt respected that you uncovered the layers of the relationship.

Love may be too short. And forgetting may be too long.

But I will get there. And when I do, I will just smile about this day when I said I am still grateful that I met you. I will smile even more when I finally will be able to fully trust a man again and enjoy how he tries to take me to places I have never imagined reaching—in my mind, in my body, in my soul.

I wish you would find that kind of love that will satisfy not just your body -- but your whole being, Ben. I wish you would not be scared to bare your soul to someone whom you will truly cherish. When you do, do not let her go, because love is too short. And forgetting takes too long.

Once yours,

Rose