Letter 7Dear former lover,
It's getting hard for me to remember making love to you. That first night is sharp and clear only because it was painful and, for agonizing scream worthy minutes, worth every wince and awkward grimace.
We used to have fun, behind childhood sheets and curtains of cold to combat the summer, didn't we? But after that fireworks night nothing was ever really the same because you had what you wanted, and you...oh, you, my dear sir, were never enough once you were fulfilled. Therefore, I am writing you this letter just to let you know you may want to work on that, because nice guys finish last, and, here is a secret, it is worth it.
Apathetically yours, passionately someone else's
Letter 6Dear Stranger,
I have read your secrets, your poetry, your silently typed screams for something more. I mainly just wanted you to know you are not alone. I've been there with you, so many times. I have lost friendships over bad boyfriends. I have waited so damn patiently for someone who never seemed to see me. I have cried myself to sleep remembering old hurts that can never ever go away. I have wondered why living is worth anything, and have dug daggers into palms to escape. I have no idea who you are, if I see you every day, or if you are in a world I could only dream of. But you are not alone.
Strangely, it comforts me to say that. I guess in the same way it is comforting to know that part time lovers will always be full time friends. I know that this struggle is hard, and I hope that someday we could meet over coffee or maybe a glass of wine, and laugh about how small these troubles are in the rose colored past. We should makes plans for that.
Letter 5Dear dreams
I do thank you for the reprieve from the nightmare because the thought of the shriveled child corpses would have been far too much. However, could you maybe have the kiss come BEFORE I'm waking up? These moments of waking truly suck when I am without him. Now, I know that you are basically an impartial observer when it comes to my bedfellows, but for once I would like to have my happy dreams to not make me feel a thousand miles distant from comforting arms when I wake.
Letter 4My dear sister
I'm writing to you even though you are less than three feet away
Lost in your own world that revolves all the time around him
I just want to know
How you could say that I know nothing of love
When you don't know anything or anyone but him
And I have had my heart ripped apart so many times?
My dear little sister
Just because you have gotten engaged
And I have had my heart broken
I don't know
Letter 3My parents, I do want to let you know, first and foremost, how much I love you, and how very, very much I am thankful for what you have given me. I know that I can be thoughtless all too often, and that my friends mostly think you are crazy. Which is odd, because I don't know where else they think I got it. And you have given me so much else too the daily needs. An education. You have taught me to be self reliant, to not be afraid of shouldering the responsibilities of younger siblings and household chores. I am not too bad a driver, even and we know how rough that started out. You have even supported my college work, my studies, my crazy degree. Most parents would harp on the uselessness, or even refuse to help. At all. But you just asked "What are you going to do with a theatre degree?" Told me to work it out myself, and, when I struggled to be in a thousand places at once, you stepped in and picked me up and took me to the next quiet stretch of stream. That is such a small
Letter 2My dear C,
Does 'dear' presume too much? I am so afraid of that lately, presuming too much. I think that comes from all our previous memories and the fragility I have come to associate with the words 'you' and 'me' together. I get so afraid that we are really only as tough as a child's balloon, and the tragedy of that is I still have balloons from when I played that flowers were princesses and I still hoped that I could one day have my own pony. However, I know the only lifespan of a flimsy bubble like that should be over a summers day, and after sundown I really should just release the morning breath to cool in the twilight. Or, that is what everyone says. For the life of me, I can't bring myself to believe them. I guess I am pro-life even, no, especially when it comes to dreams, and love, and hopeful futures.
I wish I knew where I was trying to go with that. Oh well.
You know, this is part of a writing assignment. I do that to myself sometimes. I try to
My best friend
Madame, I do believe I have slipped over the edge
There was something extra in that soda, wasn't there? And who knew that jolly ranchers could sing our throats so as we fell over in ridiculous delights? Happily, there wasn't enough for full blown hangovers. But anyways, I am watching you sleep right now, and kind of laughing cause I am not, in fact, a sparkly vampire, and hardly a werewolf with pecs of iron. I'm just stealing your interwebs and eating your poptarts and leaning on my plague pillow.
We really have far too many inside jokes, don't we? But I guess that is ok, cause we are awesome people. Even though my parents would say I am going to hell for thinking it funny that people think we are lesbians together...sad, how they do that. Cause, if ANY of their daughters loves men, it is definitely me.
But, as I was saying, we are so truly awesome people.
Yes, of course we are.
Love, ( |-.-|)
(P.S. I do enjoy you being Sammy and me being Dean
To the other midnight poets...Why do you write your words so late
Too early for anything but insomniacs' half attention
Too late for the sunset to bring it to life?
Do you write as I
Quelling longings that have come from lonely bedtimes
And empty lake piers?
Are your words taken
From your life?
Or are you trying to define what you never had
And always dreamt
You could say?