Letters from a hopeless dreamer

Letter 3 of way too many (a letter to nobody in particular)

Candle light dreaming, dreaming under the stars. Vindicative of an early death, as before the sorrow of death, there's the feeling of love.

And after it too, it seems, love lingers in the grief and sorrow death catapults towards ones fragile human heart.

In the darkness and despair, in the lights purest form, I find it to be love that mends a torn created by its own adhere. Yet love alone, to which I devote myself alike, that tears open those wounds once more, mercilessly.

(credits to @FormalPsycho for the first stanza and the inspo to write the rest)