Lover Letters

Rather than one of my typical creations, I present to you a collection of poetry, entitled "Lover Letters". I discovered an unfinished poem, and then tried to complete it, but had lost it's tone due to a series of events. As I finished, I did not just see one poem, I saw four, each demonstrating an evolution of internal thoughts in a relationship. They were four unsent letters to a single lover, each with different messages and states, and now they are yours to enjoy.

Sometimes I wish you were my first love.
Then I would have never had to love again.

But instead the first one to steal my heart
Was a tall boy I met at Jew camp.
He wrote.
But he liked the music more than the words.
And the idea of a girlfriend more than me.

But you—you’re not like that.
You say things that not even the most poetic boys can.
You tell me that languages like Greek and Latin are gorgeous
And that I’m the same.
You don’t give me butterflies.
You thrust a bunch of migrating birds in my chest
And expect me to maintain my fa├žade of confidence around you.
You shift things
Creatures like perspectives and priorities.
You’re hurting my grades
Because the only unit I’m studying is you
Because you are the hardest test
And I can’t rest or subdue my affection.

I wish you were my first love.
But you aren’t.
You are my most stimulating
But I will be satisfied with this love
as long as you are my last.

Finding your someone is like looking for a roommate
To rent some space in your heart.
If I posted up a flier in a coffee shop
You would have fit the description.

I didn’t know someone could conform to my mold
But you do.
So now I’m terrified of losing you
Well, at this point I should be fearful of not attaining you
But I’m the type of girl who just assumes you are mine
Who thinks that when you say you love me you aren’t kidding
Who is looking for a non-jocular kind of bond
I’m that luna-chick
And you’ve managed to stick and then cement in my mind
I can’t peel you off
Even though you seem to be prying
And trying to escape my world.

That’s why this hurts so much.
You are stepping back
When you’ve already been submerged in the ocean
You can’t find the coast anymore
There is no return.

They say when you love something, you set it free.
That is a load of crap.
When you love something you fight for it with every particle of your being
And beg it and steal it and hide it
You don’t let anyone take him from you
Not even himself.

So I’m having a lot of trouble.
You are wandering through my days and thoughts
And I’m left distraught
As you implement a scheme of mixed signals and symbols
Destroying my symphony by adding unnecessary drums and timbales
And I can’t stand how you won’t say hello
After you’ve held my hand
How I’ve cradled your face is my palms
This world is fleeting
But that doesn’t mean that you should be.
You’ve left this itch like a restless flee
And I don’t understand the methods of extermination
Or termination
Or terms
I just comprehend how your presence devours me
Like a bunch of worms
Weaving through my skin
How you make me wish I was thin
So then I’d be beautiful enough for you
Because our bio teacher did proclaim that we tend to mate within our own beauty class
Little did she know she was encouraging me to tighten my as...paragus

But I don’t think that is the point of this poem
If it has a purpose at all
Likely it’s a story of a girl who started to fall
But hit the ground too early
Right now you are miles away
I don’t know what to say to you
But by the moment you return I pray I do
Because I cannot bear an emotional departure.

I’m just writing these letters
Not love letters
These are lover letters
Because they do not describe love
They are the sensation itself
Because that’s the way I am
You can measure my emotions wealth
In the amount of words I give them
Here I’ve discussed my first love
And how I want you to be my last
But in reality I just want something to last
And although these sentiments are entrenched in the past
I wish they could just linger
That they were tangible
Things within I drench my fingers
But we are postage yet to be delivered
There is no guarantee we will arrive
So all I have is strife
And this drive
To uncover and finish half-remembered poems like these
I caught you
You weren’t game
You were a disease
And I realized that you had been sneezed
On me by other girls
From other worlds
Yet we were all equally stupid
Strangled by cupid
And I’m not willing to be another faceless name
Or nameless face
Stuck in your pocket
Without any care or grace
And I keep on writing these poems
Treating them as letters that you do not need
To receive
They are my reaction to your deeds
But I’m not curing the cold
I’m just wiping mucus on my sleeves
And it wreathes of desperation
Using you as my only inspiration
For my creations
So I’m going to do some exploration
Write some declarations to myself
Sign these letters here
Stamp them
Then confine them to a forgotten shelf.


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