IMAGINARY LETTER no. 4
I burned your letters tonight. The different hued papers and inks with which you would write to me made a colorful flame.
I realize that my letters to you were disposed of long ago.
There had been a cold rain so I made the little fire on a hill under the stars. I thought I should immolate myself on that pyre
You are a flame in my mind. Since our time together I know I have spent my life with my head on backwards watching that distant flame as if you were still near. In that manner I have bumped into other women and hurt them
A billion billion fiery cataclysms led to us meeting. I want to be grateful for that, not bitter
I needed a ceremony. It had to end in fire as it had all begun
Yes, I crippled myself loving you.
No, I'm sorry, that is not true. There is no one like you. That's all
I was lucky to know you. And for too long I have needed my memory of you to be encased in perspective and placed in amber, a sacred relic, not blinding my eyes every day
I have lived my whole life with a NONsense of destiny. I have put myself against the Gates of Hell too many times with expectations.
I have cursed and dishonored the very forces that created the two of us.
I shall be grateful for your daily breath.
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But, the most ancient scrolls are kept on: THE TABLE OF MALCONTENTS