Day 25

Letter found by a dumpster in downtown LA


And I knew it would come to this. So did you. Remember when I went over to your place for the first time and you [smudged by water] within 5 seconds? What was that all about?
Or that time when all you wanted to do was just stay in my arms? Or when we laughed at night so hard and [smudged by water] exhausted?
I remember waiting for you, eagerly, and feeling complete the minute you walked through the door.
The problem was how fully I threw myself at you.
But I won't be a hypocrite. I won't ever hold back. It felt as it should and I acted as I should.
If that was too much or too little or just nothing at all, it doesn't matter.
I behaved as I should have. And I guess, in a way, so did you.
Now we're [smudged by water] but three.
I guess I'm just stuck with you taking property of my thoughts for a little longer. And once that's dealt with, I won't even have that. But I'll keep the pictures. And the smiles. And the way you felt on a lazy Sunday morning sleeping next to me.
But I know [smudged by water] and you don't.
I don't care. Read this and throw it away, or keep it. I said what I had to say.
But, if you change your mind, [smudged by water] night.

Bye
Me

P.s.: I honestly can't deal [smudged by water]

Day 24

I lay ink to paper until it is drenched and its thirst is quenched. I elaborate over useless nonsense until the beatings of my heart are steady and my hand shakes less every minute that goes by. I battle with synonyms until the equal is not just equal, but superior. But my ink doesn't exist.
Although never ending, my paper and pen are code. Interactions. Light.
I spill all that I must on intangible lines and hope for release.
Then I turn on the TV and forget that I used to have a brain at some point.