boxes of paper. 

11/13/04

I’m writing this as I’m thinking so please try to bear with me. I still don’t think you realize just how much you hurt me this past week. While I’ve been sitting alone in my room punching holes in the wall, smoking, drinking, watching sappy romance movies, you’ve been out with him. It’s not the sex that hurt so much it’s every minute you spend with him laughing, walking next to him has been another tiny dagger in my heart. I’ve done nothing these past six months but put all my energy into making you happy please try to give a little of your energy to try and find some way to make me happy. It’s so hard because I love you so much. Every day, ever minute I spend my time dreaming of holding you I dream of spending all my time with you please be with me please find some way to make this right. I love you with everything I have and there will always be a place in my heart for you. Please call me when you read this. 

love always.

Already, now, a distant memory: standing at a sink with your wife, warm soapy water covering our wrists. Perhaps she set her ring on the counter. Perhaps she had forgotten. The fourth of july, blood streaming down your face. You tried to kiss me in the gravel drive belonging to the first man I ever loved. This town gets twisted in on itself. Escape to a home in New Jersey with a woman who will treat you kind. Leave me to do acid on the highway. I will not remember this letter. I will remember mostly the scar on your left arm which no longer can be seen, and the rain that covered us on the beach at night. For whatever it’s worth: the apology of a child.

I return the letter to the envelope, and dried petals crumble in my hands.