My sweetest friend, though there is no gilded reason to apologize, I want to spoon out of my heart the puzzle pieces which have broken and crumbled over me. I am sorry that you heard me whisper in the weeds that I was better off alone, because these lies will come true and bloom when I wish they were never planted or came reach for the sun. You will go, death will take you, and I will forever wish that I was not alone. Not just alone, but that I could pull you down from the sky in my selfishness and remember all of the glitter that was encrusted into our lives, the bold colors of the summers and the peaceful blues of giggles concealed by crisp cool sheets, the wide-eyed wonder of an open road and hotel-room keys, and what it feels like to laugh again.
March 9, 2012