My Dearest Eliza

My dearest Eliza, oh how there is so much I yearn to share. My heart, my body, my soul. Take me away with the gleam of hope you cast upon this damned world. I wish you could see what I see. Your hair is fire that melts the coldest of hearts, your skin fair as winter is long, your eyes darkened with secrets I must investigate. I watch you execute simple acts, yet you perform them in such a methodical way it seems as if Shakespearian. Oh Eliza, dear sweet Eliza. How I long for you.

You saw me once, as I walked by with my hound. You smiled to me, offered me the privilege of laying gaze upon an angel, and I knew then we were meant for each other. But you were on the arm of another man. I thought little of it, that he was a friend or maybe a brother, yet when his lips touched yours, a searing flame of agony befell me. I only heard a few words from you that afternoon, but I remember them clearly;

“Oh James, how could one not simply adore you?”

It offended that you were not referring to me, yet knowing the suave, angelic caress of your voice made me feel far past ease. Your tongue a weaver of only heavenly words, incapable of saying anything bitter.

After our first encounter, I saw you many times to follow. I made visits to your place of work at the diner past the park, your home on 5^th Drive West, and watched you go out with James on several evenings. He was the problem, our only barrier of pursuing endless years of passion and eternal devotion. You hold a force above me that demands submission, and I am willing, yet he is there. Could you not notice me? 

There was one day in particular that I happen to remember well. I was picking flowers in the bushes before your apartment building, that I was to give to you of course, when James came to fetch you. I could not bear to see you with him, so I fled the scene, yet in my rush, I had left my hat. When you noticed, you grabbed my hat and brought it back into your building. Why did you do that? Maybe because you feel our connection and that hat is the gateway to our everlasting love affair. Or maybe that hat is what will end up carrying your untouched soul into mine as we ultimately become one. I pondered thoughts such as these for countless nights as I lied craving your warmth.

One morning, I had awoken with a sudden courage within me. I walked to the diner and went inside for a meal, rather than sitting near the corner window outside. You saw me ready to order, and when you came towards my booth, that courage hastily took flight, as did I. I wanted to formally apologize for fleeing on you in that way, but how could I ever be worthy of sitting before you and holding a conversation? I could not. 

After that incident, I vowed I would no longer live within James’ shadow and would knock over our barrier. On a day I was sure he would not be seeing you; I went to his address and observed his day. 

He woke at dawn and went out for breakfast, admiring each bosom that strutted past. His smirk evident as he thought of women other than you. But you, being only angelic, never saw this. Hours had passed and nothing extraordinary had occurred but come dusk and I found him in the shackles of another woman, bound to her bed. I stayed only short, yet the conclusion was the same; he was unfaithful to you. How could you, my dear sweet Eliza, not notice his filthy habits? When I have you, I can promise there will be thoughts in my head of only you.

He left an hour after and walked home with a sickly smile amongst his tainted lips. He hummed a pleasant tune as his satisfaction was obvious, and that is why I did it. When he trotted up to his doorsteps, I held a knife to his back and whispered in his ear;

“You scum. Have you no respect for her, my dearest Eliza?”

I waited for no reply as the knife efficiently made its mark and entered into his heart. There was no resistance, as if it was meant to happen. He fell before his door as if boneless and I fled the scene a good-humored man. 

You found his body the next morning when you went to visit him for breakfast, and I think you were pleased with my work. You cried tears of felicity and shouted with enthusiasm as I had so gleefully taken a burden from you. Now there are no barriers, my Eliza. 

The next fortnight, you stayed within your apartment, and I was filled with the sorrow of not seeing your elegance for that time. What was the matter? I cleared all of our miseries; James was no more. I called you from a phone box when my worry was high. Do you remember our conversation? 

“Hello,” the simple greeting caused a symphony of chills to caress my spine.

“Good evening, Eliza. Are you alright?”

“Who is this?” you asked, and I felt wounded you had not memorized my voice as I had yours.

“James’ brother,” a quick falsehood. 

“Oh, good evening, Charles,” you paused as a delicate sigh of dread fled your divine lips and tickled my ear. “I cannot say I am well.”

Did you not notice the effect those six simple words had on my psyche? I had gotten rid of James because I was who you were meant to be with. How could you not be doing well? He was unfaithful and a bastard. 

“I see,” I replied. “Need you my comfort?”

“I would rather mourn unaccompanied,” without fail, your replies caused a repeated hurt in my heart.

“I see,” disappointment evident from my tone. “I truly hope you recover quickly, my dearest Eliza.”

You hesitated. Why? “Alright. Talk soon, Charles.”

You hung up and I left that phone box with an ache, a craving that was not being fulfilled. Why could you not understand this, Eliza? I hurt for you, I killed for you. 

A day past the phone call you left your apartment, and I had never felt prouder. You were searching for your prince, and I was him. 

You carried on a day as you would, working then going home. I decided now was my opportunity. I approached your building entrance and inhaled deeply, anxious with a long hope. I found your apartment with ease and notified of my presence.

Dearest Eliza, you opened the door wearing a pale nightgown that made you appear ethereal. A smile of only bliss adorned my lips as I wished to have them on you. 

“May I help you?” you asked, and this was the first time you had spoken to me directly. Hearing your heavenly voice address me meant more than you could ever know. 

My smile deepened and your features twisted into confusion. “Oh Eliza,” I sighed.

“Yes?” your questioning tone complete with innocence. 

“I did it for you,” I began, confessing. There should never be secrets kept between two people in love, and I intended to keep that true.

“You did what? Who are you?”

“James was in our way, Eliza. You have only ever been mine, but you never understood that. Do you now?” 

The look in your dainty blue eyes turned from confusion to distaste as tears threatened to fall, and I wondered why. 

“You killed him?” you were hyperventilating, and when I tried to offer comfort, you shrugged me away. Let me help you, Eliza. 

“I did it for you, for us,” I remained as calm as a winter night.

“Go away! Leave! I will call the cops,” you were hysterical, but I understood why. You were so overjoyed that we could finally live our life together that you had to shout. 

“Eliza, my dearest Eliza, you must come with me. Our fates involve only each other,” I smiled, moving closer.

You dashed inside after closing the door on me and I heard your sobs, loud as a lion’s roar. Were you not happy? Why not?

I left shortly after; shoulders sagged with grief. All of this was for you, for us, and you had the audacity to wound me as you did. Please recognize that we are eternal. I always knew you were mine. 

So, I write this to you, my dearest Eliza, as you lie breathless and entombed by red roses beneath my floorboards. Your skin will never age, your hair will never grey, your heart will never belong to anyone aside from me. Do you see it now? Do you see how we made for each other?

I will forever love you, my dearest Eliza.