I pray once this letter reaches you that I am still branded in the back of your mind. I am sorry it took so long to answer your chicken scratch letters, I got all sixty-three of them. You told me about the day we met, our first kiss, even the day you left. Your letters were all written in long-hand usually stained with coffee, tears, or buttered popcorn- some were even sprinkled with your hand-drawn sketches. All your letters even ended the same way.
'P.S. I still love you.'
Written as if you were trying to speak some mantra to bring you back to me. Each 'I love you.' written differently as time progressed and we both matured into our childhood. I feel bad that this is my first return letter. But, now I know what I was meant to say to you after all this time. I love you, damn it! I tried to forget you, I tried forgetting the way your lips were soft against mine, or the smell of your skin, and the sound of your chevy truck- I still can't forget.
Written as if you were trying to speak some mantra to bring you back to me. Each 'I love you.' written differently as time progressed and we both matured into our childhood. I feel bad that this is my first return letter. But, now I know what I was meant to say to you after all this time. I love you, damn it! I tried to forget you, I tried forgetting the way your lips were soft against mine, or the smell of your skin, and the sound of your chevy truck- I still can't forget.
Our last summer, we went sailing remember? We dined at dives that severed french fries and milkshakes, and we danced- danced even with everyone looking- we danced anyway. Do you remember? ....we danced anyway.
I still love you is all I have to say. It hurts and I can't get away. The letter when it reaches you I hope it is clean, white, and new. For even though it hurts it's how my life is like now--even without you....even without you I can't breathe.
xoxox
the girl who ran away.
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