letters to you

as i scramble for letters
to turn into words to turn into letters
i try to write to you,
i look to you
to remind me
of the way you knew
the curve of my handwriting
before my fingers laid ink down,
the way you knew
how my eyebrows would scrunch up
before i bent to set the pen scratching,
i look to you
to strike chords within me,
to send me into dizzying choruses
of words that paper absorbed
to leave my head empty of poison.

in this wave of confusion and self doubt
i can’t help but address myself to you
just as i used to
back when we knew the angles at which
we needed to position ourselves
to keep each other upright.
and i can see in my mind
the startled step you’ll take backwards
when another letter reaches you
after all this time,
i know i haven’t been around,
my replies are a little too short and
take a little too long to reach you
and i know this is selfishness
but in this wave of confusion and self doubt
it’s still you i look to
after all this time.

i hope you open this envelope
that you read this desperate last ditch attempt
i hope you laugh and say “always”
(because we were fellow potterheads
before we were anything else,
because we loved books before we loved each other
and i hope that this love we can continue to share)
and i hope
that you write back with
those answers of yours-
the ones that were
never quite right but never seemed wrong,
truth seeped through those words you
used to pen to me
and i just want to read them written
in your hand once again.

but if time has left your confidence shaken,
if your belief in me has not recovered from the
fall it took when i withdrew from you,
if all the shades of right that we partitioned and coloured
have blurred into each other
then just write to me,
write back and let me know that i am more-
more than
faded photographs of grinning girls
who no longer fit into the same frame
more than january the 17th
and the lack of recognition etched
into your blank expression
more than a liar
more than just unspoken apologies
more than the enough i’ve strived so hard to be.

and if that is too much to ask,
then just write back
write back and let me know that you still remember me
that you spent all this time wondering
why no letters landed by your door
write back to tell me that my twisted sense of regret
is not going to earn me your forgiveness
that what was is was and can’t be anymore
just remind me that i made my own choices
and unlike the prince, i chose myself over love,
remind me that
i have no right to feel as though i’ve been
punched in the stomach every time i catch
sight of your words scattered across my mind.


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