Another Love Letter

10/28/2016

Dear Jarred,

Promises, promises…love and poison.

I took myself and delivered myself to a life of poison.  You remember watching me hurt.  I remember wishing it were Libby.  Sweet on the lips and flipping in the belly, lovely poison.  What is a taste but the beginning of a bite to an indulgence in the meal.  Yum.

Thank you Jarred.  I don’t itch anymore.  I hunger.  I growl for the flavors of saltiness, sweets, bitters, and copper.  Sometimes I suck my little finger to reminiscence in your twang.   A love is not a love unless it makes you cry, demands you bleed, then leaves you shaking from want and struggle to work and feel for victory.  You were my tears.  Libby was my blood.  He is my tremble.

CHUCK.

I can finally pen his name.  CHUCK.

Promises, promises… love and poison.  There is no freedom from lovely poison.  This is not me dreaming or screaming or bitching again.  You know me like I know how much you hate to love me.  It used to be scary but now I’m glad.

You were right about my lovely Chuck.  I tried to set him free like Libby, may she rest in pieces.

Sincerely,

Jared

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Posted on November 9, 2016, in Clock Block, Dark Comedy, Fiction, Letter, poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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