27 - letters

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"Dear Poppy, 

30/09/2009

I'm sorry for my crappy writing, it's so cold in this house...and there's no one here! I'm all alone. Everyone went out, but I can't. I can't stop thinking about you. You're on my mind 24/7. How I'm going to survive this journey without you, I'll never know. I start live shows in a couple of weeks. I can't believe I got this far. It was all because of you, though, my baby. 

Today, I showed Lloyd (Daniels) a picture of you and he was like "Olly, mate, she's so fit!" I was fuming. I literally glared at him for the rest of the day! I couldn't stand other people being all over you. Obviously everyone is going to be thinking you're gorgeous, because you're the most perfect thing that's ever walked this planet.. 

Going off subject. We go live on Saturday the 15th I think. I have no idea to be honest. I haven't been paying much attention to the producers. I think they're pretty pissed off at me. Fuck them. I'm pissed off at them. Not letting me fucking talk to you. 

Sorry. 

I just wanna say, I miss you so much. 

I love you to the moon and back. 

Love, Olly x"

I wiped the tear under my eye, putting down the letter. Why is he showing these to me now? Wouldn't it be easier if he just, you know, sent them to me... 

I picked up a random one, opening it up. 

"Poppy. 

24/12/2011

Two years without you. Two years of hell without waking up next to you. Without your lips on my lips. Without your soft snores in the morning, indicating that you're soon to be awake. Without you telling me to pick up the laundry, Without you telling me to put the seat down on the toilet. Without our pointless arguments. WIthout our make up sex. Without any sex from you. Without you.

I miss waking up to your face. I miss waking up to your minty breath. I miss waking up to your good morning kiss. I miss sneaking into the shower with you. I miss having a shower with you. I miss the shower sex with you. I miss sneakily watching you get changed. I miss you picking out my outfits when I picked something you didn't approve off. I miss you making me breakfast. I miss your famous eggs, bacon and toast. I miss us chilling around, doing absolutely nothing, but loving each others company. I miss our dates. I could go on and on. But I just miss you. I miss you so fucking much. 

It's 30 minutes to Christmas while I'm writing this. Remember that time we spent Christmas together? Just you and me. In my flat. Santa came. For you. Not for me. Someone forgot... I watched you open your presents from 'him', being exactly like a little child, so excited to open the next one. I remember when you didn't have any left, you pouted. And then I pulled out a box behind my back, telling you to close your eyes and keeping your hands out. You giggled. Saying, "I hope it's not what I think it is." And you raised your eyebrow at me. I laughed at that. You never fail to make me laugh. I put the box in your hand and you gasped. I remember telling you that it's not an engagment ring, because I could tell that's what you thought it was. You opened your eyes and ripped off the wrapping paper, opening the box slowly. You gasped, throwing your arms around me. "I love it! I love it!" You repeated a million times. You turned around and lifted your hair, so I could put the necklace around your neck. I clipped it on and you turned back around, kissing me. 

15 minutes to go. 

This is the only way I can be with you on Christmas Day. 

baby it's you // olly mursWhere stories live. Discover now