• Allison B.

initials

I found old letters

you wrote to her

but never sent


(I wonder if you mean to)


I didn't know that being cut

by paper would hurt this much,

but they taunt the string wrapped

around my unassuming pinky

and fray its bloody color,

transferring it to the parchment

I can't seem to let go of

between my trembling fingers


I found your journal

where you penned

your goals everyday


she was always one of them

(I wonder if I ever was)


you wrote her down so often

that she became an acronym.

if you didn't want anyone else

to understand it, I'm sorry, I did.

I want to say that I

was hunched over,

decoding those letters,

dissecting its meaning,

like a tad ugly madwoman--

but I didn't need to read

between any lines. it throbbed

like a gut feeling

like my guts seeping

over my aching sides,

after I have been speared--


I wish I had been spared

(not a spare)


I found your book

where you, dear protagonist,

pined after her, your love


interest

(I wonder if you ever stopped)

maybe you hid

all these writings away

because if anyone else

read them, you know

they'd be cheering you on

to find a happy ending.

so even though,

out of all your things,

I found a lot of her,

the most shattering discovery

was that never once

did I find myself


among them


(because I was really hoping to)

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