Dear... Philippines
You have him. You have won. No more bashful glances or sweet greetings.
Although... it's not all your fault, is it? He chose you over everyone here; leaving us to wade in the waters of time until he meets us back on the same shore once again. Please do not storm while he is there, he has so many typhoons ricocheting inside of his bones already and tsunamis crashing against his lips incessantly.
Oh, please I will beg on my scarred knees, do not keep him and do not reject him. Return him with the honey still dripping from his eyes and the tapping still left in his fingertips. Most of all, please return him to me, at my doorstep or place of work or even my grandmother's house but do not sail him back to that girl's flimsy paper arms.
She is beautiful, though and he loved her before he left. Her arms may be paper and her legs torn envelopes, but do not let her stamp the letter and address it to you. Send an Easterly wind and carry all of her pens and pencils in a giant sweep of strength. Cradle him and let the bough break on her.
Oh, oh, oh don't take me the wrong way and not heed my requests because of it. She will fall down, down, down into another's impatient arms and be just as happy. She does not need him! She thinks that she can save him, heavens, she is convinced he saved her! He is a man and men refuse to let anyone drown, even the enemy. Many crowds and audiences may now be whispering that if he is always doing the saving, then someone should save him for a change. Ugh. This is so cliche and overused much like the word, love. Nearly as useless too.
Did anyone save Icarus? Did anyone run after him and pull on his waxy arm and feathers and beg on their scarred knees for him to not fly to his imminent death? Did anyone place their hands on his sticky cheeks and whisper their desperate pleas? It doesn't matter though, Icarus flew and then he fell. His love, the sun, almost as far away as you, Philippines when he knew his wings were already failing.
The point, the point....Ah! yes, the point is that you can not save a man that is sworn to duty, whatever that duty may be. Even after his time is up, served and validated with a stamp of some kind, does the man get off duty. He always stays clocked in. She will realize this, Philippines, and when she does he will be on the other end of her own letter that you will let her write this time because time is a cruel and merciful mistress. She will address it, "Dear Grant," but this kind of letter is referred to as a "Dear John." He will wait and wait for the post that morning and smell her perfume that she evilly sprayed on the sealed parchment and he will be elated.
Philippines, you must let him feel this for a few moments... let him be happy for even a moment if you can. As I said before, no one can save the man on duty so I will not ask you to do this for him, Philippines. I cannot ask something of you that I cannot do either. Maybe, maybe that's the one truth to this letter, I can't save him. I can wait, wait, wait until the cold water recedes and he is waiting on the cooling sand with his jacket held out to me in question. I will answer. My hair will be damp and stringy but he will touch it so gently and move it from my eyes. He will look at me and notice the blue lips and the shivering shoulders and he will break my heart. Because...on that warm sand on that awful beach that I had been waiting for him at for years, I will want nothing more than for him to save me from hypothermia and give me his warm jacket. I will not nothing more than to fall into him and years later awaken in the same position only this time, not on that forsaken beach, but in our small kitchen with little light, swaying. I will want all of this and that is not asking so much.
I will whimper as he walks along the beach, away from me with his pant legs rolled up and feet bare for the ocean to kiss, kiss, kiss. Except, I will run after him and beg on my numb and shaking knees and I will place my hands on his cheeks. I won't let him burn up and fall. No, I will take his place instead.
Philippines, listen to me...sing to him at night and whisper to him in the mornings. I cannot save him, I cannot save him but I wish I could. That, that is the difference. That is why you must care for him.
You have him, you have won, but it is not your fault.