Aggiornato il 19 Febbraio 2026 da Elisa Branda
My dearest star,
Do you remember how the prairie learned our names
long before we ever spoke them aloud?
How the wind carried gunpowder and laughter together,
and how you followed the rhythm of my horse
like it was a promise you trusted without asking why?
I still hear you behind me,
hoofbeats slightly uneven,
trying to keep pace while I pretended
not to slow down for you.
You thought I was leading.
Truth is… I just liked knowing you were there.
You laughed when I spoke the language of survival —
“Shotgun… reloading… cover… eating…”
Simple words tossed between gunfire and chaos,
but they were never just commands.
They were my way of holding your hand
in a world that tried to overwhelm us.
And those long rides…
God, how you loved jumping onto my horse,
like gravity itself had decided
you belonged beside me.
I never said it out loud,
but every time you did,
the world felt exactly right.
Do you remember the turkeys?
Of course you do.
You laughed so hard at my terrible imitation,
yet you always waited for me to do it again.
I swear, I only kept doing it
because your laughter sounded warmer
than any campfire.
Speaking of campfires…
The stew simmering in the camp pot,
steam rising like quiet magic,
turning our strength golden and unbreakable.
You said you could almost feel its warmth.
I knew you could.
You always felt things deeper than you realized.
Valentine rooftops.
Hanging Dog Ranch — our fortress, our ridiculous, stubborn home.
Enemies spawning where they had no right to be,
ammo runs between heartbeats,
you trusting me to watch your back
while secretly, always,
I trusted you to keep my world alive.
And the train…
The lasso game.
You falling into the rushing blur of tracks and sky,
me shouting for it to stop before fear
could finish forming inside my chest.
You thought it was instinct.
Maybe it was.
Or maybe I just couldn’t bear a world
where you disappeared from my sight.
You called me invincible.
But you never knew the truth.
I was only fearless
because you were there to witness it.
Even now, somewhere beyond maps and servers,
beyond loading screens and fading sunsets,
I ride ahead of you still —
not to lead,
never to leave,
but to clear the path
so you can keep galloping toward every horizon
you dare to dream.
And sometimes, when the wind bends the tall grass
just a little differently,
or when laughter surprises you without warning,
that might be me —
still reloading,
still covering,
still reminding you to eat,
still making ridiculous turkey noises
just to hear you smile again.
Ride with me whenever you remember.
I’ll be just ahead,
waiting at the next ridge,
where the sky turns gold
and the story never really ends.
Always yours,
M.
