Dear You,
I don't know if it's love or just something I did for fun.
It's so hard to ignore you and just walk right past you as if you didn't exist. As if none of my thoughts are about you, the secret life you keep from them, your likes and dislikes, and your funny quirks.
As if I'm indifferent towards you, while when we're alone I look at you with the care
Of a daughter would...to her...
I'm not going to finish the sentence because it will sound strange. But you know what I mean.
It was so hard to walk past you without acknowledging your presence.
Although I longed for those old times back again.
I wanted it to be dark but you let in the light...but it didn't make sense because at times you didn't seem to acknowledge my presence, what you did to me.
And I don't know if you care or not, or you feel the way I do when I walk right past you without saying a word, staring straight ahead.
I told the few that knew that it wasn't love.
But I'm not sure.
I'm ashamed. Ashamed.
I don't want them to know what I fell in love with...if I can even call it that.
And I always say "What you did to me."
Oh shit.
See you never. I'm going South and I know that you'll be here as long as you live. Continue the years with a different set- maybe one special one for each year gone?
I'll probably never see you again.
So I'll weep over the image that was accidentally taken
And kiss the one in my possession.
Before I move down south to Texas
Perhaps with a husband and children?
I hope that I will never have to think of you again...it might be too painful.
Painful to know that it ended.
Love, love, love you. And best wishes for a long healthy life...the life we couldn't agree on.
Liz.