the letter

Photo by Ylanite Koppens on

i’ve been waiting for years

to write this to you

barred at first by politeness

then the plague

and now, just plain resistance

but the time

the time

has come


i remember parts of the day clearly

a sparkly seaside

the dark hotel room

a dusty family bible, splayed out on your wrinkled jeans

pictures of him, ones i’d never seen

and your smile, covering


it’s hazy

but i think i remember

the brother leaving

you starting to whisper


secrets from long ago

as if needing to confess

before his ears returned


it’s funny

but not

how i don’t trust i remembered this clearly

did you tell me?

am i making it all up?

mirrors and mirrors and mirrors

of questions

of secrets

from so long ago


so i’m writing

to ask

once more of the hushed words i think i heard

hoping for one step closer

hoping to help me re-member

hoping to know if it’s real

or if i’m crazy

hoping to stop spinning

through these clouds of a dream


what you said

what happened

why the secrets

why the forgotten years

why the distance

i write this letter

hoping you’ll tell me

so i can just know

if it was my mouth

if it was his hands

if it was her neck

if it was only

a dream


I’m writing this letter

before you, like they

die holding keys

I’m hoping you’ll find it

I’m hoping you’ll tell me

what is real

cause she keeps disappearing

she keeps


and i want

her back



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