This is a ''Dear John'' letter, leaning a little into prose... A little sappy perhaps. Written in 2005 for an assignment.
The saccharine colours paint the once dark skies. I can taste the orange, I can smell the pink. I want to reach out to the sun and pull it up high in the sky. I want it to shine upon my bare shoulders, burn my eyes and pull it back down to re-create the solitude of my blissful darkness. More than 48 hours ticked by without my eyelids shutting. The damn insomnia, always gets the best of me. It also used to get the best of you.
Pasted across my memory, are the words before you left. They didn't hurt. They didn't kill. They didn't even bruise my shattered world. I wanted to say the things I never meant to hide. I'm aspartame, artificially sweet. Even if I told you, would you have drank my words, digested them ? Or would they have rested in the half-empty glass ?
Are you like a cup of stale coffee, abandoned on a counter, because the sweetness vanished from your life? or have you maybe, found a candy-sweet someone to lighten up your life? I don't miss you, not you, but the things we did together. I lost the person I was by your side but I don't know whether that is good or bad. I suppose I loved myself more when I was with you, and it's now that I realise, I forgot to love you too. I look down at my fingernails, the black polish is chipped and my hands are stained with paint. You said you didn't mind that my hair was always a mess and that my clothes didn't match. Would you have rathered me in a tailored dress ? I'm sorry you were wronged everytime I flashed a Colgate-ad smile but it was the only way to prove I wasn't sad.
I also wanted to tell you that you left your sweater here, in the bottom of my soul. Fuck. Yes you left your mark, like a tattoo in my chest, maybe I didn't love you like I should but I won't erase you from my past. You remain to remind me of the errors that I've made. You know me quite well, maybe better than I do. You know that I learn fast: when I learn from my mistakes.
You were like an envelope, to hide my letters from the world, only you could tear the paper, to read inside of me, but you never did, you respected my privacy. I know I should have let you in, I could trust you, now I know but I was scared and frail under my stainless steel carapace, I was still a child. I've grown up now, I promise. I'd let you in if we were together now. I wonder why I'm telling you this, surely to you, I've ceased to exist.
I'm sorry for being artificially sweet,
(Should he ever read this letter, I'm thinking, he'll have read it from the smoke of the fire consuming every word. Once again I've written a letter that he'll never read, I'm a hypocrite I know, I promised I grew up, once again, I didn't let him in.)