The last 3 letters of the spring

I hope she is everything you ever wanted
And you’ve got insane chemistry
yk, the chemistry you thought we were lacking 
in that last month, because you didn't touch me for 3 weeks
I do remember how you said that nobody had made you “feel this way before” or “cum” or “safe and loved”
But then was it all mine
my efforts 
my thighs 
my mouth?

I hope she is also cooking you dinners
and makes you laugh
and you mirror her lips moving from side to side 
I hope you bring her flowers
any, not yellow
never yellow 

I hope you watch her shows with her

And her favourite movie is deep and underground, not a fairy tale that you fall asleep before it ends
I hope you listen when she wants to talk
I hope you stop the urge to run
I hope you come back to her, for her, because of her; well, you kinda do (yk, the off and on)
I hope you kiss her often
and you do all the things you needed to do with your life
together
I hope she’s met your parents
and all your friends LOVE her (I hope nobody advised you to block her after the first breakup lol)
I hope she waters your plants and picks up your packages when you are out of town 
I hope she dries her hair right after 
I hope she is blonde and slavic
I hope she wears nail polish
army green
and you don’t use a condom
I hope she's got perfect English, and knows how to drive
I hope you kiss her shins, her face, her arms
I hope she is here to stay
I hope you two “figure it out” ...  and actually do
I hope it's always easy, and you never fight
I hope she never begs you to hear her
I hope she doesn't need to start writing poems
or letters
or settle 
for JUST a friend
I hope she never sends you flowers
I hope she never finds out about the “new” girl because she picked them up
I hope she hears the word “love” before “too” and “I” instead of “me”
I hope she never has to grieve you
I hope you go down on her
often
devouringly
I hope I never know
and I hope I never have to wonder: “Is this her?” 
whenever I smell you on someone random

I hope you love her better, healthier, longer (for over a year)
I hope she will never be the crazy ex
I hope she is “the one” (yk, the one I wasn’t) ... I hope you fuck for hours
and the sex is AWESOME
I hope you always initiate
I hope she doesn’t have to beg for closeness
I hope she is the fucking one you want 
I hope you’ll move in together and go to IKEA and buy kitchen stuff nobody uses 
I hope you make her a birthday card with an inside joke on it, or no, actually, with something blunt, saying something like:
“I love you. You are all I ever wanted. I am so glad I met you. 
I am so glad you moved into my favourite city; here’s a cupcake, blow out a candle, make a wish, I will
never leave. I promise. We'll figure it out.”
I hope she doesn't go to my yoga studio on Sundays while you are playing basketball; I hope I was never
unknowingly nice to her, or complimented her hair, a bracelet, or her outfit (‘cause, yk, I try to leave people better than I met them) 
I hope you let her sleep in when you go to the gym, and your way back you bring her sweets
I hope you finish watching Twin Peaks with her
The reboot too
I hope you go to the cinema all the time and do hand stuff in the dark 
And when she wears lingerie you tear it down with your teeth 
I hope she's loved and cherished and desired 
I hope she doesn't return all your shit after you dump her
I hope you never break up and 
I never hear about it
I hope she is everything you ever NEEDED and you are finally ready
I hope she never finds random scrunchies in your apartment, or blonde hair, or missing condoms
I hope your friends bring her vanilla flavoured coffee and follow her on Instagram 

I hope she is everything you’ve ever wanted
and I hope you are happy now
happier 
Just one thing:
please
do not
let her
sleep in the shirt
I slept in

Just please 

I hope you fuck on the windowsill, in the shower, and in your car; on the kitchen countertop; in the middle of the room; on the floor; in front of your mirror; in a changing room and against a door
I hope you are obsessed with her (I mean, yk, the on-and-off)
I hope it’s intense and passionate and kinda’ dangerous; I hope it makes you feel dizzy and high and
intoxicated
I hope you get drunk all the time and make out in random bathrooms or at the back of a cab. I hope you
never stop to think about what it was all for, or how, or why was it all necessary—us, I mean.

Imagine writing all these poems, and the whole time he had, and I quote: “a girl I am dating, off and on…for over a year now, I guess.” 

Fucking coward.

I hope she is prettier and funnier and kinder
Everything I am not
I hope she is honey, and darling, and sweetheart
never “bro”
I hope she never ever swallows 
I hope you text her all the time
I hope she doesn’t know how I look
and she never has to doubt you
I hope she never has to ask if you want her
I hope she never cries in your kitchen because she’d found a scrunchie 
I hope she is never envious of your coworkers

I hope you will never know what it is like to lose her
forever 
without remorse 
or honour 
or closure