Nothing remains but memories of feelings. And only now do I have a more objective view, perhaps (somewhat) similar to yours.
I still remember you on occasion, when the moon is especially bright, or when the night is especially dark and missing something.
This is a pure apology; nothing but an admittance of guilt and an expression of regret.
I am sorry.
I guess this is the classic procedure, how things like this end; nothing out of the ordinary. Many stages, but at the end is a pure 100% apology. A letter devoid of anything but guilt, regret, and memories. A letter so unlike anything I have written for you in the past.
But I stand by my apology, I was wrong and I regret having written any of them.
It’s a near impossible task for me to write more, though I want to express more. I want to remain in touch, if only by writing letters that you cannot read. But how do I address you? A past lover, or a past opponent? A stranger ? but I cannot see you as a stranger anymore.
It must be part of the classic procedure. If the apology is pure, after it comes nothing.