When I thought there was no music left, you proved me wrong. when I cried that he had taken all of me and left me for dead, you whispered my name, and my heart raced--assuring me that, yes, I still lived .When you had heard it all, and I thought surely you would run, you did; but you ran to embrace me and told me to dry those teardrops, because he was not worth them. And you were so right. He was not worthy of the love I gave and he trampled underfoot.
I have not yet exhausted all the love my heart holds, for I feel it ever so quietly beginning to knock on the door--not wanting in--but begging to be let out, and yet fearful of awakening something too powerful for words.
You know that I am grateful, forever will be. Thankful that you believe in me and my music and words, and your love awakened that. The heart knows when it has met with truth. Thank you for being there. For helping me understand that the only true failure would be for me to let him win--to give up--to give in to despair. Instead, I have regained my self-respect, my self-worth, and my confidence. I have found the will to live, and not only live, but thrive, and not only thrive, but to rise above every pain, every indignity, every infidelity, every slight, and every fear.Indeed, it was his loss. I have my music back, my peace of mind. I am stronger, wiser, more stable, and in time, I will be yet even more forgiving, as I know I must to be completely whole.
I know your teardrops fell with mine, though I was not there to see them. I felt them. I know they were not sad tears, but drops of compassion falling all around me. For so long I lived with someone with no real emotion, a fake, a lie. So much so, that I am bowled over with the truth of your love. A love I can never repay, but I will spend my days telling the world how much I love you in return.