Letter for My Bloody Valentine

There’s a letter meant for me. Someone wrote it. It is NOT an ordinary letter, it is a letter from a friend to another friend expressing how she felt about him—that’s me. Truthfully written from an innocent heart composed with some of the honest words ever expressed, the words are carefully arranged, and the meaning of each and every words are deep, deep as her ‘love’ for him. The words are wisely chosen, yet simple and straight forward—I ‘like’ it! In other word…

It is a ‘LOVE LETTER’,
A BLOODY LOVE LETTER,
A BLOOD STAINED LOVE LETTER,
'A BULLET FOR MY VALENTINE'.

However, neither she herself nor the postman will send it to me. Though it was meant for me, but it was not addressed to me. Let just say, I won’t be receiving the letter, neither will I be able to read it.

WHAT A WASTE!? A letter which contains some of the most precious and stupendously written literature will not be read by her so-called ‘lover’? However, it has not gone to waste. I know it, I know all about it. I may not know every single detail about it, but I know what it is about and what she would want me to now. OH! How I ‘love’ her because of that, because of that (fucking) BLOODY LOVE LETTER.

I wish she has the guts to send me the letter. I’ve been waiting for it, even knowing that I will never ever get to lay an eye on it, I still hope for someday I am able to read it. I just want her to know that I ‘love’ her as much as she ‘loves’ me. All because of that BLOODY LOVE LETTER.