CASSEROLES AND HALF-SMILES


Love,

Today marks the fourth week that you have been gone. I don't know how much more of this I can handle. The toaster's broken, I need to change the oil in my car, and people I've never cared much for keep showing up with casseroles and half-smiles with their heads tilted to the side.

You would know what to do if you were here. You would know how to make these people go away. You would know how to make them stop talking about you in the past tense. How could you leave me here?

You're still in my kitchen, in the cupboards, in the walls, in all of the places we were alone. You're in every minute of every hour, in all my sinew and muscle and bone and teeth. I can smell you in all of my clothes.

Most of me died with you. Please, please please come back _____. No one is supposed to be a widow at twenty-three. I need you to see me through the rest of my life. I need you to be here, I need you to be the person that knows me.


- The girl you met when you were four. .




the love letter collection
submitted 7:33 PM EST
tuesday, january 13, 2009