Member-only story
One Last Love Letter
Romance isn’t dead but chivalry killed itself
The truth is, I felt dead when you said it was over. Yet I acted more concerned with buying new clothes instead of finding closure. Went from drunk in love together, to spending the next 7 years with my lonesome, never sober.
I passed our old apartment the other day. But then I thought if it caught my eye from a certain distance, it might hurt my vision, and quickly looked away.
Funny how nowadays it's your laugh that haunts me, but in the past, it was when you’d get angry and hang up on me that had me haggling with if I should pack my laundry. I’m a walking tragedy, just know I’m sad and sorry.
Most days it feels like you passed away years ago, but I never mourned you. Did you finally find a way to get rid of some of the bitterness, or did you let it form you? Hell hath no fury like a horny woman’s scorn, they like porn too.
The box of letters you wrote me back then, no longer opens, but I figured I’d finally reply, so I went and found one of my oldest pens.
Problem was, the ink had long ago rotted, and all those love notes we jotted, became one unfunny joke — but unfortunately, in the end — nobody got it.
