Letter from a damned. Happy birthday, babe.

I'm sorry, my darling. Maybe it's not what you expected. I was hoping to be next to you when you were going to open this present, but I can't, so I'll have to settle with this. I wrote something to make sure you feel me next to you when you open your present. 

"Happy birthday", that's what It's supposed I have to say. But, you know me, I never do what I should. I shouldn't call you, and I don't, but I also ought not write to you, and I do that last, very frequently. 

Today, marks five years since I first saw you. I can't forget, I can't erase those memories from my head. I just can't change the feeling, the same feeling I had when you walked in front of me and asked me to give you the place. 

Babe, you were so beautiful with that tiny little dress and with those boots. You looked just like a fragile warrior girl. I know that doesn't make any sense, but it was what I saw when I saw you.  

Today, babe, today the sun is brighter, the clouds are whiter, the birds sing louder, and you don't hear them by my side, you don't see the clouds or the sun with me. It's my fault, it was my mistake, but it was a mistake made in a desperate moment. I was trying to give you all those stuff I took you off at first. I failed. I not only lost all we had, I have also screwed things for you in the future.  

I'm sorry babe. This isn't supposed to be a sad letter. I just wanted to say hello.
I love you. Now, tomorrow and until the end of my life. With my last breathe and with my last bullet. I love you.