Love letter # 237
I should leave now. I have started to imagine you using your body in that way – how you would move. Sound. Sigh. This places me in an untenable position. I can barely bring myself to look at you, let alone carry on conversation.
You will know me by the space I leave behind. Perhaps you will be surprised. Disappointed. Sickened even. At any rate, I will not have to bear the awful weight of your scorn or the slow screw turn of your ignorant bliss.
By writing this I will appear on your radar – even as a blip – and you will know that someone noticed. Perhaps you saw right through me all along but I have swooned in the vision of you. Your beauty has inundated me. As I take my leave I carry the leftovers of your loveliness with me.
I leave to avoid the intolerable spectre of your light shining for someone else. I know this is petty; but I would rather be called a fool than die in quiet envy.
Just know that you are beautiful and that the one who used to occupy that now empty seat nearby was the one who thought so. Was the one who knew what that meant.