“Your words wound me deeply, but your silence hurts even more” Those were the words that my last love, Henry Smith spoke before going into the bloody war.

I ever wonder if he were to return from the war. I watch the clock, hours go by, days go by and I cannot bear to think the pain I caused him.

I begged him helplessly to stay and we exchanged blunt words. I cried at my knees holding and grabbing the pants of his legs.

Alas, I stopped begging and walked away. Again, “Your words wound me deeply, but your silence hurts even more.” Were the last words I heard him say.

A soldier came to my doorstep and handed me a letter.

I opened it desperately, the letter indicated he had passed.

I dropped to the ground begging for mercy. All I could ever think of were the last words of his departure.

The soldier handed me one more letter, alas. I opened it and it had read,

“My dear Florence, I cherish you deeply, my love. I fear my last days are coming. All I can think about is your dear face and the son you are carrying. Don’t dwell on how we departed, because I would move heaven and earth for you. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to experience the live we’d sought to live. My dear Florence, shall your life be filled with happiness, I will always be in your heart. Goodbye my darling.”

Signed, Henry Smith