A letter

….all the time, every day. In fact, I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s ridiculous. Crazy. Sad. I’m not what you need or want; you’ve made that abundantly clear and I’m not writing this hoping you’ll suddenly wake up and see how much better we are together than apart. This past year proves how irresponsible that line of thinking is. We aren’t meant to be. You’re not what I really need. But it’s like that time, when I was so hungry and we were both a little stoned and we took that cab down to the U district and we ate at every restaurant on the strip until our money ran out. It was reckless and stupid and we were both sick for days. It’s like that. Or maybe that doesn’t make sense. No it’s not quite like that. I mean you don’t make me sick. But when we are together I feel like I’m too full. Too full of emotions. Too full of fear. Too full of what’s so eerily close to love. And when we are apart, I can digest. See the bigger picture. See how sick we are for each other. But it’s good, yes? No? I don’t know. So I’ll tear up this letter. I’ll eat it or burn it or drown it’s shredded pieces in the toilet. You won’t see it. And even if you ever do. You won’t care.

In the shadows like a raven dreamt darkly of a man I have.  Madness mine and silenced wings he was torn from day like sunlight waning. Quiet thoughts in rushing wind the  beating of our battered hearts did stumble. A quiet, deadly, night thing crept against us hiding in the shadowed places. We tore from each a thing most needed. In the shadows like a raven Dreamt darkly of his hands I have.

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About brandil79