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Dear Lover This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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I'm sorry I couldn't love you enough. I'm sorry for painting the solar system on my body and leaving you out of the process; you did not deserve that. I want nothing more than to feel your sticky lips against my calf again, your feather fingers across my belly button, your heart next to mine.

It was never about your silent eyes, or the way you crashed into me on nights I was speeding so fast not even God could keep up. It wasn't about my fading light or the memory of you that I tucked neatly under my pillow because I could not bear being alone after you left, even for a little while.

You cracked my limbs. You cracked my eyes. You turned my brain into TV static on nights the lightning was so loud I had to hide under the bed. I bet you didn't know. I still develop tornadoes where my lungs should be every time I remember your sweet vanilla breath on my tastebuds.

You are stuck behind my teeth, embedded in the roots. I'm scared to let you go because I had not known happiness until I met you; I also had not known heartache.

There are holes burned into my organs because of you. You recreated the universe inside my body. The day you decided that I was no longer good enough, the acid in my stomach caused black holes to develop. Do you see why I need you?

I don't know how to make you love me again. I have forgiven you for not saying happy birthday. I don't mind the violet paint splashes that often covered my mangled body. You are more beautiful than a van Gogh painting, and you turned my veins into origami more than once.

I am sorry I was never enough, and sometimes too much.

Love, Me

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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