A Letter for You.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is what I would tell you, if I ever got the courage.

Submitted: March 25, 2013

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Submitted: March 25, 2013

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I’m not mad at you anymore and I think I might even miss you.

Being with you was like lightning striking the body. You were so beautiful and you left such a beautiful scar on my heart.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

I always thought you were a good person. I still think you are. But your conscience is like the blood diamond; I nearly killed myself trying to find it.

I know it’s in there, somewhere deep, somewhere I don’t think many people have been.

(I wanted to go so badly, my dear)

There was a poetic way in which things ended. A star fizzling bright with wishes and hopes, then exploding into a shower of glass shards

(at least that’s how it felt)

They shattered my heart and the cracks spread like a forest fire (and sometimes I can still feel them growing)

I laid you on the operating table and opened you up - trying to find the things I was sure sure you had.

I thought your bones were made out of the stems of red roses, and your muscles came from those white feathered geese who mate for life, they say.

I must have been dreaming, because you’re only human made from regular bones and regular muscles (and you turned out to be just like everyone else)

But, I guess there really is a reason for everything; just like my mom told me when I asked her why she and Dad didn’t love each other anymore.

The cracks you made let common sense and a little bit of self-respect seep in like streams of water.

And they stay there now for the most part.

But sometimes late at night when everyone else is asleep I remember our last night together.

You were drunk and I was high and we were laughing for real, that time. You had such a beautiful laugh.

(that was when I first started thinking that we really could be something…)

But eventually I’ll remember that that was the last time we had sex and that nothing was the same after that.

And then I’ll realize all over again that being without you is the best present I could give ever myself.


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