ten drafts & possible love letters.

  1. i said i wanted you and i meant you could bring your demons too.
  2. you do not know the hells in god i had to walk through to get here. i could tell you about them, better yet, i could show you, they are within, i could take you, we could walk in my past & through my scars. i know that boys like you need to see to believe but is there any trusting left in you? i have no more, i gave you all the love i could carry with my bare hands.
  3. your unfurnished apartment in the new jersey, the mattress five inches above the ground, the flowers, the champagne glasses filled with red wine, the pizza with extra cheese and the hot sauce, the songs we sung at the top of our voices from your balcony around 4 in the morning on the first day of the year. that’s why.
  4. you are my proof of God. i believe.
  5. the first night we slept together, my proof of womanhood spills across your bed sheets. you do not lose your calm, you are not shaken. you gently kiss my spine. with baby wipes, you clean the mess i have left between my thighs. you carry me out of your bed, change the sheets, ask that i hand you my spoiled underwear. i change and you carry me to your bed, again. as though, trophy. as though, untarnished. as though, pure. as though i am not the worst thing i have ever done.
  6. the imperfections of my father and the salvation of my mother brought me to my resurrection. the second coming is already here.
  7. just like the ocean cannot undo its waves; whether it blesses the shores with its deepest treasures or bring them to their knees, it has already been done. just like that, i have already loved you.
  8. gravity & time, our only ennemies.
  9. history will make no mention of us, my love. as unceremoniously and as common as we came about, we shall be gone. you promised not to cry and i swore not to say a word. we are dying because we refused to stand still. you fought Goliath and you made promises at the tail end of a coin tossed in the bottom of the sea. they won’t remember, they will never know. i will never forget.
  10. i dream of you. of the perfection that you already are. to keep me grounded, i imagine we will have mundane problems; i imagine we will fight over grocery lists and the amount of money we spend on valentine’s day gifts. but i fall asleep with the same image each night; i am reading our favorite book out loud, your head gently resting next to my pregnant belly, Anthony Halmiton’s “amen” is playing in the other room and after all this time, these years of searching and losing, i finally know what it is to rest.