Last 3 letters of the spring

Is it ok that I want to throw up 

when I look at old pictures of us? Is that normal? Is there someone to ask? I don’t even need an answer, only to ask

Is it ok that I feel like being run over 

when I get off at your stop? Inevitably pulling an Anna Karenina. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Except, you wouldn’t understand what that means…I am the villain in both our stories. I am so sorry I am so sorry. Ofc ofc, come over, let’s talk, let me tell you all of the whys, the whens, and the hows. Has it been the same for me? ofc, I am in hell on Thursdays, sobbing on the stupid sidewalk, crossing the street would mean giving up—I was never a runner I was never a runner, now I run I run.

Is it this bad for you, too? I need someone to tell me the truth—just this once, can you be honest? Is it this bad, or are you all liars? I am so sorry I am so sorry, the realer the threat, the redder the string. Am I a mastermind, or do you only avoid the ones you actually want? Cool cool. Can you relate to my platitudes? All the rushed thoughts, but make them sober. If I think about it, that’s deeper than Dante. It is not, but how would you know what that means? 

Did it make you wanna throw up when I, when you, when she…did you cover your face with your hands? The face I loved, the hands I loved

Remember November? Not just a random day, the entire month, yeah

Remember the first time in my apartment? I was a love novel in another life. In this, I was I was 

something 

with that in mind,

may you burn in hell or something—we only have now. 

let’s not do this 

let’s not stay over 

let’s hope it’s nothing 

It will go away sometime in October 

Will I hoard them in a pile of oldies, or

or toss away the excitement?

There is no reason to get angry – I never sent the birthday cards, btw, sorry 

for that