letter · new years resolution


My Dear,

You are trapped inside my heart and locked within my head. Teasing and taunting, toying with my senses. Here then gone, here then gone again, gracing me with words right as I begin to feel the futility of hope: a colossal joke meant to keep me playing this twisted game of love. Is this all I have ever known? Will it be all I can never expect to? I try to wash my love for you away, I ache to extract it from myself — unleash it on any and all passersby, whether witting or unwitting, caring or indifferent to my plight. It makes no matter; the release provides catharsis. But it is only temporary. All too soon I am brimming once more and aching to set it free. This pattern of rinse and repeat is ultimately useless. The feeling has been so firmly planted within me that nothing, it seems, can expel it. Can expel you. Perhaps because I don’t entirely want to.




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