A word about letters…

How about we write letters to one another, long sappy letters recounting the days of yore, when things were good, when things made sense, when we woke up, and somebody had tofu and soy milk and my dreams which were always complicated and never complete, but we drank, a lot and found rhythm in our lives and resurfaced day after day on the same wavelength, in touch, in tune, but sometimes completely not, and we can write letters of those days, and I would remind you of that one time, that one day that was like all the others and yet completely different, and you would remember how you love to hate me and how you hate to see me go every time I have to go home, dragging my heavy memories and my weighted heart down the runway, and I would write you a letter every day to remind you that I enjoyed our time together last night and last Sunday and last year and I can’t wait to hold you again, and fall into that one spot where I always find myself, and I would write how I never want to leave because you have to tell our kids to get their shit together and you have to tell me that I have to get my shit together and that I forgot to pay the light bill again, and I would say all that and so much more in those letters, scented with this confusion and the smell of us under cover, understanding that this life is short and I could die tomorrow not understanding why I never went back home and why I couldn’t just … be.


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