Some old words

I’m supposed to be writing this

love letter on pretty stationery

with roses and flourishes. But

love isn’t pretty like that. At least

my love isn’t. My love is messy

and disorganized. I’m lucky

when I can keep it in the margins.

My love is scribbled on napkins

with pens  running out of ink…

in my drunken, sloppy script at

4 a.m. I’ve

played too hard

drank too much

partied too late.

I’ve lost my shoes,

smeared my lipstick

and my mascara’s running down

my face onto this page. The ink’s

gonna run and I’m in trouble.

I’m in a bind and only you can set me loose.

If only I could find you.

Did you run off with that

girl-faced boy? Again?

Don’t you love me, pretty darling?

Messy and out of context, sure,

but I know you love me.

Won’t you come

and set me loose?



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