Background color
Background image
Border Color
Font Type
Font Size
  1. I have lain beside you for hours while we slept. I have felt you breathe, felt your arm over my chest, felt the way youd spasm and hold me tighter, as if even in dreaming you were aware of how far I had slipped from you, how distant I had become.
    I have heard your laughter, felt your smile against my lips. I have held your slender fingers in mine as we walked, sat, made love. I have seen you angry, confused, hurt, I have even seen you cry...warm salty tears shed at the thought of losing me, at the knowledge that we were not destined to be forever.
    I have known you, I have loved you. I have put you before myself more often than I care to remember.
    So why is it that while I sit here and see your words as plain as day in front of me, I feel like I have no idea who you are?
    Why do I feel as though the man telling me he will not fight for us, for me, for something I had believed to be better and more important than anything in my life, is a total and complete stranger?
    Why do I feel as though I have lost you?

    I have listened to you sing along to our favorite songs, I have stood outside the shower and laughed as shampoo filled your eyes and you screamed. I have loved you, in ways I will never love anyone else.

    I had thought that would be enough.

    Now I see I was wrong.

    Where I had seen hope, seen light, you saw only the end.

    And I am alone in my sadness and regret.

    I have known you.
    I have loved what I knew.

    And now I am saddened to find, that I don't really know you anymore.
  2. *May 12, 2011
    Dear John,

    I’m tired of pretending like this doesn’t hurt. Like the way your voice holds no warmth, no comfort doesn’t affect me. I’m tired of pretending to feel no pain.

    I get tired of this game; I get tired of the lies. No matter how I try and twist it to be ok, it never feels the same. Every night that you come home an hour later and just a little bit more drunk and angry with a new set of rules to throw in my face, is a night that I slowly realize I can’t take this any longer.

    I’m sitting in the dark of our messy closet, my knees drawn to my chest your sweater pressed to my face, my eyes squeezed shut against the tears I can’t seem to find the strength to fight. It’s over, isn’t it?

    I could continue to draw this out as long as I want, and all that would accomplish me is more of this.

    I try to keep the agony that is ripping through my body quiet and muffled, but I don’t think anyone could hear it anyway, no one ever does. You lie. You lie to me, and I accept it. Sometimes I even convince myself that I believe. I don’t know why I choose to be let down, why I choose to be hurt.

    I could say that I love you, and let that explain it all away, but I don’t think that will work, not this time, not today. Today I’ve accepted things that I can’t bring myself to believe, today I understand.

    It feels like you’ve died. What hurts the most about that is the fact that you’re still alive; you’re only dead to me. And I’m the one that loves you; I’m the one that will be there when everyone else has left. When these people you call your friends have taken all your money and used all your drugs and you are alone. I am the one who will still care.

    I’m so tired of this game.

    If I could sleep I would, if I could make this go away and wake to what I had before, I would. But I can’t sleep. I won’t sleep until you are safely in bed with me, snoring your alcohol away smelling of the bar and other people. Then I will sleep. And in the morning, I will leave.

    *June 7, 2011
    Dear John

    You will never know what it was like to wake up in the morning, and wonder who I was waking up with. Would he be the man I loved today? Or would he be distant and cold, unfeeling and cruel.

    To live a life that is in a constant state of turmoil and change is to live no life at all, and somewhere along the way, I gave up who I was to love who you had become. I let it swallow me whole, and for that I will hate you and myself for the rest of my life.

    You will never know what it was like to be afraid of who I loved. To feel a flighty nervous wave of fear hit my body every time you raised your voice, every time I saw the spark of anger in the eyes I used to think were beautiful. That fear grew into something dark as the time went by and the fights got worse. It became a strain of hatred that would at a moment’s notice turn back to love, if only you would love me too.

    I used to live for you. I’d breathe for you.

    You were in almost every waking thought, and you were center stage every dream.

    Now I refuse to know you exist.

    And you will never know how much that hurts.

    What do I say, what is left to be heard after all the tears I have cried, and all the things I have begged of you. What love is left to live when you gave it up to die?

    I heard today you talk about me. Is it wrong I’m happy you still know I’m alive? Is it wrong I’m happy that maybe you feel the loss of me?

    Do you?

    Do you feel loss when you think back on me in your life?

    I can’t believe I’m the only one that hurts. I can’t remember you and the way it felt to be with you, to hear your voice in my ear at night, to feel your arms around me as we lay in bed silent with sleep, and not think that you have to miss me.

    I’m too scared to find out the truth is I’m wrong to ever ask.
    So I sit and I live. And I pretend that I never loved you.
    I pretend that I never lost you.

    I pretend.

    *July 21, 2011
    Dear John

    I hate to think that you will love someone the way you should have loved me.
    Is that wrong?

    I hate to think that you will lie awake next to her in the bed that was once ours, and be content. I hate her, for not having to feel what I did near the end, almost every day the last days of us.

    I hate her, because I know you. And I know you will not have picked someone who will care, who will see what is wrong for you, and try to keep you from it. I hate her for not being me.

    I hate you for killing what should have lasted so much longer, and so much better than you ever gave it a chance to. I hate that you didn’t care how much I cared.

    I want to forget the times we had that made me want to be with you. I want to sit here and cry because I stayed, not because I left. I get through the days by telling myself that you couldn’t have loved me, not with the things you did to me, the way you lied. You couldn’t have.

    Yet I know you did. In your own twisted way. And that’s what I hate most. I could have followed you anywhere, and all you did was drag me down.
    It hurts me more than you will ever know; to be sitting here waiting for the storm that I can’t help but know is coming. I know what you will tell people, and it will soil whatever good there was about us. But that’s you.

    I tried to so hard, for so many days to keep you golden, but the things you did and the lies you really seemed to believe came down like rain and kept tarnishing until all that was left was a dirty green copper. And even still, I find that I’m clutching to you with all the fear and pain of a drowning person. I hurt in ways I never imagined you would make me feel.

    When I met you, I thought I had found someone who would understand what it was to be hurt, someone who would have learned from the pain and do right. And I held to that belief far longer than I ever should have.
    Because I still believe it today.

    I am a stupid person by nature. I live by faith. And I never lost mine in you. Even when I was left crying in the snow, with you hating me on the other side of the door; even when I was home alone once again at four in the morning, six hours after you were supposed to be home, feeling sick to my stomach because I knew what you were doing. Even when I was crying on the floor with a bruised face and an even more damaged ego listening to you tell me how you hated me, even after every time I hurt from your hands. I knew you loved me. And I held to that.

    Now I have to hate her.

    Because when I finally got the courage to leave you and that hopeless faith behind, you replaced me.
    With her.

    I hate to think that you will love someone the way you should have loved me. Is that wrong?

    I don’t know if you will ever feel what I feel when you think about me. Do you have flash backs every day? Do you see yourself with me, and the places we went, the music we listened to, the days we stayed in bed and held each other from night to dawn, to night again?
    Or do you lie down with her, and forget me completely?

    I loved you.

    I still love you. And that will never be good enough for either of us. And I hate you, and I hate her, and I hate me for all of it.
  3. Knowing that when you die you're gone, that when you finally close your eyes all they'll ever see is black until the end of time, is enough to make a person afraid to get out of bed in the morning.

    So as I stood over his body, watching them pump oxygen into his dead lungs, it hurt more than it should. I felt myself cringing from the sight of his sunken eyes and the bloody tissue that surrounded his face.
    It felt like I was on House, and any minute some crazy doctor was going to limp in and tell me that whatever strange disease he had, it curable.
    But you can't cure death. Not if it was the only disease he had worth curing.
    Not if it was inevitable.
    And everyone dies.

    Looking back, what hurt the most, even more than his imminent death, was the way she held to me; the child who was never really a child to begin with comforting a mother who never had it in her to raise. Her face swollen and red from crying, the layers of makeup she had always insisted upon wearing streaking her face a pitiful shade of gray.
    Funny, I'd never thought she'd care if he died.

    Yet there was, crouching against the wall, her blue eyes even brighter because of the tears she swore she'd never cry for the father she refused to call her own. And all the years of anger and pain between us that drove us apart and insane were somehow forgotten, and when I told her that I loved her, she said it back, and maybe for the first time in my life I knew it was true.

    And now as they call and tell me that the decisions are still being made, that how he dies is undecided, I know that I should be there with her. I should never have left in the first place. But the though of being there any longer had been unbearable.
    I'm consumed with guilt, it's locking my throat and sending those damn tears to betray what I'm really feeling, even when I smile and say I'm fine...we all knew he would go this way.
  4. It was worth it.
    Driving all the way here on the brink of exhaustion, my faulty radio making me scream every time it went static. It was more than worth it.
    I lean my head against the seat and don't even try to stop the stupid smile from showing on my face. You're so beautiful, even in the dark, with just the faintest light from the moon shining in through the rear window, I can see how beautiful you are; it makes me heart hurt to look at you. I want you to touch me, but I'm too afraid to ask, so I'll wait until you want to do it yourself, and until then this is good enough, this watching and memorizing you and your lines. I think I love you more right now than I have in a long time. I lean my neck forward and press my lips to yours, breathing in deeply, tasting you and feeling that familiar warmth spread across my chest. Your hand brushes my cheek; the hard calluses scratching and making me tingle.
    Should I tell you that's what I'm feeling? Or would that make it go away, this easy peace that comes in the still of the night, when all we hear is each other breathing? My eyes burn from how tired I am, and I fight to keep them open, even though I want nothing more than to curl up against your burning body and sleep. I love that, more than I love a lot of things in this life, being held by you all night long. I slip my hand behind your neck and pull you towards me, the way your breath comes faster making my heart pound. I wish I could tell you what is going on inside me, so you know that you're not the only one who feels this, so you know that I'm not totally unfeeling. I feel you; I feel your skin, the heat radiating from your body, your moist breath on my face, your fingers pressing into my skin, your arm wrapped around my back, lifting me to your chest.
    I feel it all.
    I just want to lay here and feel you breathe, until it’s the only thing in the world that can reach me the way you can. I want to you to whisper in my ear that you love me; I want you so show me in a way that makes me understand.
    You ask if I'll ever believe that you love me. I'm not sure, but right now that doesn't matter to me. It's worth it, not being sure, because I know I love you, and right now that's enough. Right now, it's worth it.
    You're smiling at me, and even though its dark and you can only see the outline of my face, I want to hide; I want to hide the pure unabashed love that I know is in my eyes. I fight it, the urge to keep my feelings inside, and tell you that I love you. You kiss me, and suddenly it was worth it, all of it. All the months without you, the months of hurt and fear and anger. All of it is made worth it by this kiss, by the way you press me to you and hold me like you never want to let go. Because that is what I feel. I feel you wanting me, and it’s more than enough for me tonight.
    Tomorrow might be different, tomorrow I might want more, and tomorrow I might not feel this. But right now, this is all I'll ever need.
    And when you leave, I will keep this night the way I keep your picture and your shirt, as a reminder that times can be good again, even if I have to wait another painful six months until it happens.....I will wait.
    I will love you.
    It was worth it.
    Driving home at three in the morning, my eyes so blurry I can barely see the highway, my body trembling from all you've done to it, my mind whirling from the thoughts I can't keep out of my head.
    It was worth crawling into bed alone, wanting to cry from how badly my body ached to have you hold me.
    Loving you tonight, even if it was only for a few hours, was worth it.
  5. I feel like I'm in that Aerosmith song.
    I don't want to close my eyes, even though I'm exhausted, because I don't want to waste a single second of this.
    Tomorrow you will be gone. I press my face to your chest and try not to cry, I don't want to cry on you, how embarrassing would that be, you already think I'm weak, I don't need you to think that with any more certainty. Then again, maybe you'd like it if I did, maybe you'd think it was proof that I really do love you. You slide your hand to mine and grasp my fingers with yours. I love the way your hand makes mine look tiny, your whole body does that, I love it.
    I wonder if its getting light out, the thought makes me panic. Morning is the worst thing I could possibly imagine right now, the scariest thing in the world. Morning means the end of this, the end of this moment; and I don't know when the next time a moment like this will come again.
    Is it wrong that I don't want you to ever leave me again? Is it wrong that I want you here with me like this forever until the end of time? If you knew that I was thinking this, you'd laugh, tell me it wasn't possible, or maybe even say that you wouldn't want that, and that would ruin this moment. So I won't tell you, I'll just let it pass from my head and be taken over by something new. Like the smell of your skin.
    It's funny in a scary sort of way, to know that at one point, not so long ago, I was afraid that I'd never smell you again; never smell this. I wonder if you know that just the memory of your scent can take me away faster than even the sound of your voice. When I think of you, and the memory becomes so real, its like I'm there again, right next to you; and I never want to leave.
    I wish that I could take a picture of us right now, so that when it gets so hard to be away from you, when I start to think that I can't take it anymore, I can look at it and know that we were here. I don't have a camera, so I'll just have to remember the only way that I can. I will sit down some night in the near future at a time when it feels like my world is ending and you're farther away than the fucking moon, and I will write this all down.
    Is it weird that I do that? I'm not sure.
    I sigh, and you ask me what I'm thinking, and I tell you its nothing important, because it isn't, nothing is when compared to this. I don't even know why I sighed, I just can't seem to help it when I'm with you.
    You sigh. I ask you for the reason. You say its been too long. Since what, I scoff, you've had sex? No, you say and tighten your arm around me, it's been too long since you've seen me. My lungs tighten and my eyes begin to burn. You cared, you cared that you weren't able to see me. I turn back towards you and press my lips to yours, wanting to tell you how much that means to me, but once again afraid that I will cry. Funny, how much that seems to happen in connection to you. I don't if that's a good thing or not.
    I think I'm gonna cry, I say finally, and you laugh. Why would that make me want to cry you wonder. It's because it made me happy, don't you know that? I don't understand how you don't understand how much it means to me when you say things that let me know you care, maybe if you did you'd do it more often.
    Tell me you love me, I say softly, wishing I didn't have to ask, but willing to do it anyway. You smile and turn your face to my ear, pressing your lips against it. I love you, you whisper. And for a moment, just a brief one, I do cry. My eyes fully water and spill over, but the moment passes quickly, and I try to pretend it never happened by pulling your face to mine and kissing you as hard as I can. Maybe I can make you understand by how much I want you; sometimes I wonder if that's the only way you even can. I wish I could show you what I feel when you hold me, when you look at me, when you kiss me. I wish I could make you feel it too. I'm scared that you never will.
    I don't want to fall asleep, but its so hard sometimes. I feel so safe here in your arms, like nothing can ever reach me through them, nothing bad that could ever take this away. But thats not right, its not true. Morning will come and I will wake up and all this safety and peace that comes with you will have dissolved like the night, and I will be empty and scared again; and you will be gone.
    I try to shove this away, try to block this from my head. I don't need it, I don't need it tonight. I just want to feel you next to me, feel you breathe.
    That's all I've ever wanted from you.
    All I ever will.