Love letter # 467
In clear headed moments I know you no longer think of me as I still think of you; and I am fine with this. I do not seek to rewrite history.
When you said you loved me, you meant it – just as you did, minutes later, when you said you couldn’t stand me. We went from pillar to post, following the storms of your affection. It was exhausting for both of us. Too much in the end.
Yet even now I sometimes wake with blood on my chest, fresh from the valley you carved. Not pain, not longing, just evidence. Whatever it was, it was something. Enough to scar lines in rock.
Last night I smelt the first jasmine of the season; and we were back in your room, hidden from the gaze of the world, playing with fire. I shivered at the thought those flames.
I am not seeking confirmation. It will alter nothing. But the jasmine. Such a lovely cloud. Please take a second to breathe it in.